Jump City Jump
by P0ST
Summary: One City, six Titans, and their wildcard.  Act One:  Deuce-to-Seven.    ...The Third Birth...
1. Act One: Deuce to Seven

Robin held his position up high on the marble scaffold. Crouched like a gargoyle in the silent hiss of urban night, the Boy Wonder surveyed the long stretch of red asphalt that made up Fifth Street, running east to west in a crimson slice across Old Downtown Jump City under the flicker of amber streetlights. The roads had all been empty for the last hour and a half straight, a convenient calm before a methodically planned storm.

A gust of warm spring air, and Robin's bangs danced briefly then settled—contrasting him from the solid stone face of St. Faustina Chapel upon which he was perched. Years of roaming the rooftops of Gotham City had taught him the fine art of patience, the necessary habit of becoming one with the granite and concrete around him. Nestling himself deep within the bricklaid flesh of sin and cement, he could feel the dark metropolis' pulse, read its mind, anticipate its thoughts.

But this wasn't Gotham. This was an entirely different beast within which the bird huddled, with an entirely different pulse—one that Robin was still trying to read, and failing; which is what made him worry, worry as he crouched there in wait for the red vein of Jump City to spill its truth.

And right on time: Two headlights, four, eight, ten—a caravan. _**The**_ Caravan. The target: a car, two SUVs, and two delivery trucks. Angling around a red-lit street corner, the glossy convoy of black bodies cruised liquidly down the otherwise empty length of Fifth Street. As their aluminum skins drew closer, increasing in obsidian detail, the quietest and calmest of chimes emanated from a timer fitted into the Boy Wonder's utility belt. Right on time—everything was right on time. But it didn't ease the _worry_ in Robin's mind.

The sound of all five engines echoed against the marble steeples next to Robin on the Cathedral face. If this was Gotham City, he would have leapt down already—had sprung heroically into action. But it wasn't the caped crusader's call. It was:

"_Everyone, maintain your position."_ Cyborg's voice crackled firmly from the communicator palmed in Robin's glove. It was full of confidence, leadership, hunger. It didn't sound worried. Not worried enough. _"Wait for my signal. Move as we planned."_

Robin exhaled through his nostrils. Masked eyes darted from wheel to wheel of the throttling black vehicles. They were nearly parallel to St Faustina, and he was occupying the point position. This was getting close, too close, but Robin didn't move. He had his cue; it hadn't sounded yet.

An April moon licked across the windshield of the car in the front of the caravan. Robin glanced up across the street—towards buildingtops that none of the drivers would ever think to look at. He spotted a green emerald glow, and a few rooftops away: a golden hue. Robin glanced back down towards the alleyways at ground level. He saw a green shadow, a violet hue, and the faintest glint of titanium metal, waiting, then suddenly bobbing:

"_Wait for it... ..."_

The Boy Wonder's heart skipped a beat, he gnashed his teeth. This was going on far too long. Either they would spring the trap or they wouldn't. There was no need for this pretense, this thick-as-leather inhale of coordinated nothingness. If this had been three months earlier, before the beginning of the Beginning, he could very well have single handedly bolted down and-

"_NOW! GO!"_

Robin lunged forward as if God Himself had kicked him in the rear. The communicator flew through the moonlight and magically landed in a yellow utility pouch—which a gloved hand snapped shut before twirling loose a metal stalk. The Boy Wonder's boots pivoted and, with a shift in his lithe weight, he proceeded to glide down the granite banister of St. Faustina's Cathedral. Metal treads sparked tiny fireflies against the steeples and gargoyles flying past the caped crusader as he finally reached the masonry's horizon and leapt out into the crimson womb of the street below, gliding like a yellow comet towards the front of the black convoy.

The car sailed towards the epicenter of Robin's vision, a victim and an ally of gravity all the same. In the throttling peripheral of Robin's vision, a green and yellow streak flanked him. But they were none of his concern. Nothing was ever his concern in free-fall. A dance of wind and death through his cape, and the Boy Wonder shrugged it off, twirling the stalk of metal in his hand until it extended into a brilliantly glinting bo-staff. A breathless few microseconds later, and Robin yanked that staff overhead , forming a downward fang, and he snarled forth his entire breath into the pulsating face of Fifth Street and Jump City beyond.

He came down onto the car like a bolt of lightning, landing with the staff first—impaling the car through its hood, and shattering the engine beneath into oblivion. The mechanical thunder was muted over by a second thunder: Robin's boots impaling the hood in two shattered places, forcing the car briefly to lift its two rear wheels up into the air.

And as the wheels came down, so did the wrath of Starfire. "Haa! Haa! Haaaugh!" With each tulmutous outburst, the Tamaranian warrioress let loose an accompanying burst of green wrath—a starbolt—which expertly pierced a subsequent tire, deflating the entire northern half of the convoy's transportation.

Meanwhile—flanking the alien, and a little slower on the draw—a golden spear glided through the air, and clinging to it: Stargirl. Blonde hair whipping through the night, she squinted one blue eye, pivoted the Cosmic Rod ninety degrees, and fired platinum volleys to accompany Starfire's—deflating the southern half of the vehicles' tires with no less precision.

A bouncing sensation—the car Robin was perched on settled from the impact. The two superheroines arched upwards for a second flyby as the caped crusader gritted his teeth and savagely wrenched his bo-staff from the guts of the sputtering hood. A door opened and a poor fool in a black suit reared his head out. "What in blazes-"

"Down." Robin simply slapped the man hard in the gut with the tip of his bo-staff. The man clutched his emptied chest, wheezed, and slumped harmlessly down on the street. He wasn't the only one in the car; three shadows stirred violently from beneath the tinted black windows. Robin snaked a hand down and was already grabbing the three appropriate birdarangs with adept fingers as he craned his neck towards the air. _Where was...-?_

"Hnnngh!" Cyborg descended from a super-powered jump. Bits of concrete shattered from the landing as the half-android being stood his rock-solid boots before the first truck of the convoy, which was screeching to an embarassing halt towards him on deflated tires. "End of the parade!" _Clk-Clk-Clakka!_ His right arm snaked into a cylindrical blue cannon which he promptly aimed down the center of the huge transport. The nearby sphere of sound drowned out as a sonic wave billowed forth from the leader's former hand and utterly shattered the windshield from the inside out. The occupants within clutched their heads, wailing mutely as the vibrating tumult rattled them into unconsciousness.

The rest of the convoy—a truck and two SUVs—crunched into an awkward, zig-zagged stop. One SUV, the last of the caravan, swerved too late, clipping the rear of the second truck. The impact was too much for its inertia to handle, and it flipped forward—flying thirty breathless feet into the air, upside down.

Robin shouted, but his words were drowned out by Cyborg's sonic backfire. He blindly flung the birdarangs, pinning the car's three exiting passengers immediately to its aluminum body. They yanked and struggled as he pommel-horse'd over the sunroof and skidded to Cyborg's side, pointing a furious gloved hand at the airborne disaster.

Cyborg nodded, and replied into the settling air around them: "-see it too! **Raven!**"

"On it." A sorceress droned overhead, levitating calmly over the split-second fray. She lowered the blue hood over her head, exposing a ruby stone and calm violet eyes that swiftly glowed in a dark obsidian as she flung her other hand out in a meditative pose. "_Azarath. Metreon. Zinthos._"

The black SUV was encompassed by an even blacker energy in mid-air. It stopped just a few naked inches from slamming violently into a pawn shop, and instead lowered gently to the ground, not without being pivoted right-side-up through the expert telekinesis of the robed girl in blue.

Raven lowered herself to the sidewalk of Fifth Street just as the last two vehicles came to a screeching halt. She pivoted and looked boredly over her shoulder as two men in suits nearly tripped over each other while stumbling out of the other SUV.

"St-Stop! Whoever you are!" One of them squawked. He fumbled through his pocket for something, but only managed to get his hand stuck, of all things. "Freeze or we'll...Or we'll..."

Robin tilted his head to the side, his brow furrowed. _Something was horribly wrong here. These men..._

Just as the first man finally pulled a black object out of his pocket, there was a clak-a-clakking of hooves. He barely had a chance to glance over when he was greeted with two green rams horns football-tackling him at over forty miles per hour. "OOOF!" No second had the first suspect been flattened, that the green mammal in question suddenly squatted in the form of a twirling crocodile, tripping the other SUV driver to the asphalt with a scaley tail. "Unngh!"

With a cartoony bounce, Beast Boy hopped into the air—only to land in the form of a lithe elf. "See ya later, **alligator**! Hahahaha-" He clutched his sides, but then paused, ears deflating. "Er...wait...I did that wrong."

More car doors. More footsteps. Everyone turned to see the last truck with its doors open and three men in black running—panicked—far, far away from the scene of the ambush. They moved with no grace and no destination—just a flight of pure horror. Watching, Robin felt his insides freeze all the more. _Something is very, very wrong here..._

"Starfire! Stargirl!" Cyborg nevertheless shouted into a communicator built into his blinking metal wrist. "We've got runners!"

"_Snkkt—Affirmative!"_

The golden and emerald streaks surged overhead while Beast Boy jumped, cheering: "Woo yeah! Flight of the Valkyries! I love it!"

"Don't you ever keep quiet?" Raven droned.

"Don't you ever kiss my butt?"

"Hrmmm..." Raven rolled her eyes and lazily flung a wrist in time to slam shut the doors of the second SUV before its frightened occupants could peel themselves out.

Half a block ahead—the three runners had barely skirted the edge of an intersection, out of sight, when a series of golden and green flashes centered upon them. Three screams later, the men were being yanked back—two from the Tamaranian's strong wrists and one from the golden beam of Stargirl's Cosmic Rod. They were tossed in a meaty heap in the center of the wrecked caravan. "Ooof!" "Ugh!" "Augh!"

"They did not put up any resistance in the least." Starfire uttered, suddenly breathless. She cupped her hands together and looked worriedly the leader's way. "Cyborg, do you also feel that something is amiss-?"

But the half-android was already marching over to the nearest of the SUVs. Raven lowered the black telekinetic field in time for the metal man to rip the passenger door off—snarling-and yank out the first figure he could find. He lifted him effortlessly into the red-lit air beneath a street lamp and snarled:

"**Alright**! Give it **up**! We **know** what you're delivering to the Western District!"

"I...I-I don't know what you're talking about!" A middle-aged man in a white collar business suit sputtered and dangled helplessly in the teenager's titanium grip. "Wh-Who are you people? What do you want?"

"Maybe you haven't been reading the news, punk!" Cyborg sneered straight in the fellow's gasping face. "My name is Cyborg. This here's my team. We're here in Jump City to keep scum like you from polluting the streets with dangerous radioactive _trash!_ Nao talk!" He shoved the man down so that he landed hard with his back to the vehicle. "Who're you delivering to?"

"I-I don't understand!" The man trembled, holding an arm up defensively. "D-Do you want money?"

Stargirl blinked under her mask. She looked nervously at Raven, Starfire, then Cyborg. "This isn't right. He's not like the others we arrested at the Shipyards last week."

"It's an **act!**" Cyborg leered over the man. "Don't **screw** with us, little man! Everyone on the street knows that there's been a power vacuum ever since that alien ship landed in the Bay! **Including** you! People who sell dangerous technology that they know nothing about make me **sick**! I won't be letting you **scum** infect my home town anymore! So **quit** the game!"

Across the way, Robin was dilligently handcuffing at least a dozen of the caravan's occupants—too dazed by the calculated ambush to fight back...too weak. As Cyborg's interrogation boomed in the background, the Boy Wonder crept over to the first SUV. He crouched and handcuffed the moaning man with the rams-horn-shaped bruise in his chest. Beside him lay the black object that he had tried so pathetically to pull out of his pocket. Robin cautiously picked it up and held it before his squinting eyemask. "A taser...?" The caped crusader murmured. He glanced at the other man besides the SUV. A similar device dripped out of his limp pocket. Neither of the men had guns. _None of these men had guns._ Robin briefly glanced towards the other superheroes, then liquidly stood back up before pivoting about and gently opening the side door of SUV...poking his masked head in...

"**TALK!**" Cyborg shouted, lifting the man up again and slapping him hard against the side of one of the delivery trucks. "Who're you with? The Neon Hand? The Dead Men? The Central Gang?"

"Wh-What?" The man twitched, his eyes wide, incredulous. "Y-You got it all wrong?"

"Have I?" Cyborg snarled. He glanced aside at Starfire. The girl nodded back and floated over towards the rear of the truck. Cyborg joined her, dragging the gasping man all the way. "Then maybe you can explain to me the radiation signature! Or the fact that we overheard Katarou's former gang members exchanging information with the Dead Men and plotting a delivery on this very route! Or, for that matter-" He pointed at Starfire. The Tamaranian charged a starbolt in her palm, and burned the locks off the truck's rear with a single wave. _**CL-CLANK!**_ The doors flew open. Cyborg yanked the man to look inside. "-can you explain why you're driving a truck full of highly **unstable**, illegally **smuggled**, **Gordanian**-" He stopped, blinked...both red and brown eyes. "-video cameras?"

A hollow, muted breath. All of the superheroes gazed inside to grace the heart-stopping sight of several stacks of audio-visual equipment. Cameras. Lighting rigs. Lamps. Coiled electrical wires. Video editing stations. Microphone stands. A whole mountain full of anything and everything—but smuggled extraterrestrial technology.

"..." Cyborg stared, his face blank in a sudden bewildered helplessness. The man dangled from his grip like a used napkin—slightly calmer—but no less quiet.

"X'hal..." Starfire cupped the sides of her face with her hands.

Stargirl bit her lip, her braces showing. She glanced over at Beast Boy—and in a sudden blue-eyed hope, jumped: "Ch-Check the other truck!"

The emerald elf nodded, spun, scampered across the street in the form of a gazelle, and stopped at the rear of the other truck, ripping its doors open with gorilla-thick hands. _**Crkkk!**_ He jumped up, perched in the bed, and peered his elfish head in. Stargirl, Starfire, and Raven floated mutely towards it. Cyborg trailed last, merely dragging the limp man by the hand like a toddler being taken to the bathroom. When the half-android glanced inside, his jaw made like it was about to drop straight through the earth and end up in Beijing.

The sight told the tale: More cameras. More microphones. More hopelessly harmless recording equipment. The Titans had ambushed and attacked the most innocent caravan since the Pope came to Jump City, and even still this took the cake.

"I...I don't get it..." Cyborg finally dropped the yelping man and stumbled on limp metal boots towards the empty vehicle. He grasped his smoothe head with two rattling palms of metal. "I just don't get it..."

"OKAY!" Beast Boy snarled and jumped down before the breathless man. "Which of your men has the ray gun that zapped the Gordanian weapons and turned them into a bunch of harmless electrical junk!"

THWACK! Raven slapped the wincing elf upside the head before turning to gaze at Cyborg. "I've just briefly scanned this man and a few of the others with my soul self." She gently shook her head. "These can't possibly be the people we are looking for."

"But all the evidence pointed to this scene! This night!" Stargirl murmured, clutching nervously to her Cosmic Rod. "What about the radiation signals and the illicit transmissions we picked up?"

"Clues are clues." Raven droned. "Substance is not guaranteed. We made a mistake."

"But how could we make a mistake?" Starfire exclaimed loudly, her bright green eyes starting to burn with a frustrated anger. "We are supposed to be heroes! We performed a very careful examination of the evidence! To be in error at the behest of these individuals would be a sheer act of irresponsiblity!"

"Indeed." Raven simply nodded.

Starfire was taken back. She blinked.

"_Cyborg. Over here."_

Cyborg looked over. Everyone looked over. The young superheroes marched over like a pensive ooze of molasses. Robin glanced their way as he finished helping a middle-aged asian businessman out of the SUV. The man sputtered a flood of Japanese, strung confusedly between an air of anger and a lapse of confusion. He trembled with high blood pressure and made a futile attempt to re-button his expensive cuffs and re-attach the long sleeves that had been forcibly torn from his suit when the SUV had come to a violent stop.

"Aw Hell." Cyborg said, instantly recognizing the man.

"I...I do not understand..." Starfire murmured.

"It's Mr. Kobayashi." Stargirl whispered.

"Which Kobayashi?" Beast Boy blinked.

"What do you mean _**which**_ Kobayashi?" The blonde hissed back at him. "Kobayashi Tower? JCN Broadcasting? Only the biggest and fastest growing organization in Jump City today!"

"Not to mention..." Robin very calmly, very sullenly added: "...a newcoming candidate for the coming mayoral election a few months from nao."

Kobayashi angrily yanked his arm loose from the Boy Wonder's helping hand, fumed, and spat authoritatively towards the SUV. Another man stumbled out while the multi-billionaire stood and murmured to the surrounding air in venomous Japanese.

"Okay, somebody's gotta fill us in." Beast Boy scratched the back of his head. "None of us speak Naruto."

Robin made a face at the elf to keep quiet as the second man finally stood up, brushed himself off, craned his neck to take an ear-ful of Kobayashi's ramblings, and then cleared his throat. "Uh...erhm..." The paid translator managed in perfect English: "The most distinguished Kobayashi-san wishes to know why you young men and women have attacked and disgraced his transportation of expensive property to JCN Broadcasting Headquarters."

"Hoo boy, here we go." Raven throated.

"Oh lord..." Stargirl rested an epic palm over her masked face.

Robin glanced from the translator to Cyborg.

The half-android gulped. He stepped forward: "You mean to tell me that you picked this moment—in the _middle of the night_—to transport a bunch of _recording equipment_ to a news station?"

The translator turned to Kobayashi and flittered forth the would-be-hero's words in fast Japanese. Kobayashi let loose what sounded like a seagull cry in consternation, rolled up his sleeves, and shook a fist while growling a diatribe back at the teenagers. The translator turned back. "Is this not the United States of America? A place of free enterprise? Is it a crime for someone to conduct his business at any hours—or all hours?" Kobayashi squawked some more; the translator was swift, calm, to deliver: "What terrible crime has been committed that would excuse this unwarranted and terribly violent attack on my innocent workmen?"

"We...Uh...Erhm...We, uhh..." Cyborg sweatdropped furiously. He glanced over at a wilting Starfire, a hidden Stargirl, a bored Raven, an blinking Beast Boy, and finally a silent Robin. Robin shared Cyborg's glance for a few more professional seconds before giving an unprofessional shrug. Cyborg exhaled through his nostrils and faced Kobayashi once more. "We seem to have made an error in judgment."

The translator spoke to Kobayashi. Kobayashi took a deep breath and spat out more words—paused momentarily—then glanced at the translator with a curious breath. The translator uttered aloud 'Damned' for clarification. Kobayashi once more spat at Cyborg, shaking a finger. Finally, finished, the translator broadcasted: "You most certainly have made a _damned_ error, Mister Stone. I do not know exactly what you and your hired goons were trying to accomplish, but rest assured that this will result in a deleterious relationship between Kobayashi and Stone Industries in the future."

"'Goons'?" Raven raised an eyebrow.

"'Deleterious'?" Beast Boy raised his.

Kobayashi grumbled, and the translator added: "The first vehicle in our entourage is equipped with a panic signal. The police will have been alerted about this situation already, and I will leave the issue currently in their expert hands."

"Nao just wait a second!" Beast Boy frowned.

"Garfield..." Cyborg groaned, rubbing his forehead.

"Nuh uh!" The elf stomped over in front of Kobayashi, spun about, and squawked at Cyborg. "There's something wickedly smelly going on here! We had every reason to believe that this caravan was an exchange of evil alien stuff from one of Jump City's gangs to another! Didn't we? I mean—for fluff's sake! There was the audio clip we recorded from that abandoned warehouse! And then there was the...uh..._radio waves_ from these very cars-"

"Radiation signal." Robin corrected. "But none of that matters, Beast Boy. Good intentions or not, we've made a horrible mistake here."

"Heh—Maybe _you_ and _Cyborg_ has!" The elf spun towards him and scoffed. "The rest of us were just following orders!"

"We still must answer for what has happened..." Starfire sadly murmured.

"Not without getting a second chance to explain ourselves, we won't!"

"Explain what?" Stargirl groaned. "The damage is done."

"I'm telling you, this is some crazy set up!" Beast Boy cackled.

Kobayashi tapped the elf's shoulder and angrily sputtered a dozen words-

Beast Boy spun. "Shut up! This doesn't concern you!"

"Beast Boy...-"

"Tell them, Cyborg! Tell them about all the time we spent setting up this night and checking and re-checking the evidence-"

"The only **evidence**..." Robin stepped over and placed his hand on Beast Boy's shoulder. "...is the harm and trauma we just inflicted on Mr. Kobayashi and his men. When and _if_ we come out of this unscathed, then we can go about picking up the pieces."

Beast Boy looked at him, scared. "Wh-What do you mean 'if' we come out of this unscathed?" He gulped.

Robin lifted his eyemask'd head towards the night sky. A faraway flicker of red and blue lights, joined by a cadence of distant sirens, prophecied the coming legal storm.

Cyborg glanced around at the bruised and injured men slowly stirring back to their feet. He sighed long, sighed hard. "Kobayashi is right. This is no longer in our hands. We've done enough."

"B-But...we're superheroes-" Beast Boy began.

Cyborg snapped: "Being **superheroes** means knowing when to _humble_ yourself! Nao not another **peep** out of your liver-green lips or I'll do to you what I did to the **truck**! **Got it**?"

"Yeep!" Beast Boy shriveled and hid behind Robin's cape. "G-Got it! No need to get all death metal on me, dude!"

"..." Cyborg fumed. He slowly, calmly turned around. But after four or five gentle paces, he snorted and furiously kicked the base of a streetlamp—_**CLANK!**_-denting it. "Dammit to _**Hell!**_ How could I be so _**stupid**?_ _**Shit!**_" He grasped the back of his head with both metal hands, as if already surrendering to the oncoming police sirens, growing louder.

"..." Robin stared at him. Then he glanced over at the others.

Raven was slowly, silently levitating about and unlocking the Boy Wonder's various handcuffs with gentle waves of telekinesis. She was neither sad nor happy, neither shameful nor proud. Not even the largest rock on earth could ripple the waters in the center of her expression. Stargirl squatted her rear down on the street curb. She contracted the Cosmic Rod, stuck the shrunk device into the centermost compartment of her belt, and slumped her chin against a pair of gloved hands...sighing long and hard. Starfire simply hovered ten feet in the air, pensively hugging herself. Any trace of a warrioress' fury was gone, as she levitated—strung halfway between earth and the heavens, lost. Finally, Beast Boy...quiet at last...was stumbling amidst the broken bits of glass, aluminum, and rubber that lined the halted caravan. He kicked at a few specks of debris, grumbled to himself, and tried to make sense of the catastrophe.

As Robin stared—he was alone. They were all alone, strung up in their own separate places, imprisoned by the collapse of a chaotic and unpredictable night. The sirens grew louder, the lights brighter, and in the urban kaleidoscope Robin could see all the clearer all that there wasn't anything to see.

"This isn't a team..." He murmured to himself, collapsed his bo-staff, and strung it along his side. An exhaling breath, and he sunk both arms protectively within the dark recesses of his cape.

_It was a train wreck._

He turned lazily towards the tall body of St Faustina's Cathedral. It gazed back down at its dismembered gargoyle, wanting for a prayer.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Commissioner Erin Kneehouse was a stocky cinderblock of a woman whose body stopped growing after reaching five feet, insteading exploring every other direction—and all of it muscle. Her splotch of flaxen blonde hair rarely saw the light of day, instead choosing on a nightly basis to cut jagged edges into every shadow of the streets and alleyways outward from the Jump City Police Department. It was, in fact, within the smoke-hazed recesses of that very Department's sixth story building—under the warbling shadow of a ricketily spinning ceiling fan—that she nao stood, granite shoulders heaving in the preparation of the gamma ray burst to follow.

"Three and a half months ago, when you and your team first 'assembled' for whatever stupid reason—And the six of you managed to _heroically_ sink a two million ton alien space ship into Jump City Bay—I was amazed, yes, amazed at myself for not calling in the national guard and bringing each of your pimply little heads in through the City Hall doors on a gigantic golden platter right there and then. But the people spoke out—some of them, _the bleeding hearts at least_—and someone with enough voice and enough propaganda had the moronic gusto to say that such a blatant act of stupidity on your part was actually a way of _saving_ this City. So, like an idiot, I listened, I stood back, and I gave Stone Industries the leeway to try and see if whatever insanity that works in Gotham and Metropolis could somehow have a snowflake's chance in Hell of working here."

She spun—More like the Earth _turned_ and Commissioner Kneehouse remained icily resolute upon the frictious fulcrum of it. When Cyborg's half of the office swiveled to align with the woman's burning gaze, he was met with a gnarled face—like a two hundred year old tree of pallid dogwood snarling at its frozen victim as it fell over with a cataclysmic boom:

"But nao that I hear that you and your little band of underaged Justice Lugs violently and mercilessly attacked _Kensuke Kobayashi—_the multi billion dollar philanthropist and only single decent human being among all of Jump City's financial conglomerates—I realize I should never have wanted your heads on a platter! I should have demanded your hearts in a goddam doggie bag!"

Cyborg took a deep breath. He waited the half second it took for his titanium body to lean back, pause, then rock forward from the sonic intensity of the commissioner's shrieking mouth. Once upright, he muttered: "We made an error in judgment, in spite of all our evidence-"

"You're sure as Hell right you made an _error in judgment!"_ Kneehouse fumed and stomped around the office, making the woodwork flanking the walls and desk rattle along with the ceiling fan above. "When a police officer makes an error in judgment like this, I have him or her thrown off the force! That's because, as Commissioner of this City's one trusted protection agency, I'm personally responsible for everything that I or any of my subordinates do! Tell me, Mister Stone—Do you possess that same integrity?" She marched over and sneered up at him. "Or is there supposed to be some divine, essentialist bullshit about being a 'superhero' that makes you immune to being accountable for your actions?"

He avoided her gaze, instead staring straight ahead like some fresh marine recruit. He took a deep breath and finally replied: "I take full responsibility for what has happened tonight to Mr. Kobayashi and his entourage."

"And where does that leave me, huh, Mr. Stone?" She stomped over and leaned against a permanent butt-shaped dent in the front of her desk, folding her arms in an obstinate stance just as archaic as the perforation currently bracing her. "What answer do I give the public when they ask about the Jump City Police Department and its support for these 'knights in shining armor' holed up in Phaser Labs, pretending to be here to save the City from supposed scum and villainy?" Before Cyborg could respond, she held up a meaty finger and spat further: "And believe you me, you'll be lucky as Hell if after this fiasco you even get to _think_ of turning that private island of your father's into a future place of operations for Stone Industries! I have a good mind to transform that Tower into the gallows for everyone on your team before the night is through!"

Cyborg's metal and flesh lips tightened. He tried to hide his frustration, instead returning with: "If you must know, none of the people accosted tonight suffered any serious injuries-"

"No serious injuries?.!" Kneehouse cackled. "Mister Stone, we're talking about delivery men, stock market agents, and office clerks!" She picked up a self-explanatory clipboard from the desktop and slapped it with a granite palm. "One man has two cracked ribs from that child-actor with the Legolas ears! Another man has a lacerated kidney from Batman's former side_punk_! And let's not even get _into_ the half-dozen men reportedly suffering hallucinations from being encased in that blue witch's life-sucking energy field—that's a couple years of therapy pay at the _least!"_ She slammed the clipboard back down and folded her arms once more. "And just _who_ is paying for all of this, 'Cyborg'? Stone Industries?"

"Commissioner-"

"Oh, I'm sure you and Ms. Drew have it ALL planned out!" She tossed her arms and started pacing once more, thunderously. "You and your superbuddies make a few goof-ups here or there..._No problem!_ You pay off the angry families, ask that they look the other way for the sake of the bigger picture of the supposed benefits of corporately institutionalized vigilantism, and expect the people in my police force—those with _real jobs—_be unnecessarily slowed down by the issue of _avoiding mistakes!"_

Cyborg finally caught her gaze in a brazened frown. "We are not _avoiding_ anything, Commissioner."

"Oh really?"

"I've already paged Drew. We'll be communicating deeply with Kobayashi Incorporated within the next twenty four hours in an attempt to resolve this."

"Oh, that'll be rich!" Kneehouse let loose a throaty chuckle, like a dying bullfrog. "If you think you're capable of paying the damage done to _Kobayashi_ of all people, you MUST think yourself as superheroic! I may not need to ask for your hearts in doggie bags after all!"

"We don't know how this could have happened," Cyborg said, avoiding her gaze, murmuring to the dusty walls and the nightlit windows as if he was only holding the conversation with himself. "We went over every contingency—every failsafe in the event of a mistake in information. Nothing hinted that we were wrong about the entourage until the very last second-"

"Did you ever think of politely asking the convoy to pull over and tell you what they were up to in the middle of the night? That's how my people do it. I know we don't have alien girls who can burn holes through semi trucks from long range, but I don't see why the same procedure can't work for you."

Cyborg replied: "We had every reason to believe that we would be dealing with an armed group of gang members representing an unforseen merger between the elusive Neon Hand and Dead Men."

"And just what let you in on this eventuality?"

Cyborg gestured toward the air about the ceiling fan. "We were _there!_ We had two of us hidden at a secret conference between the two gangs in an abandoned Warehouse in the Northern District, just on the corner of Eighteenth and Charleston!"

"Unwarranted?"

"Hell, no!" Cyborg barked. "We couldn't waste any time! They were having that meeting one night only—five days ago! We only had about four hours' warning from an anonymous tip Robin got. I did a sonic scan of the area—confirmed a meeting was taking place, and then sent Raven and Stargirl in to observe and record the meeting. We got an entire audio clip from the conference—all confirming that a caravan of half a dozen vehicles or so would be transporting smuggled Gordanian technology pilfered from the Bay over the course of the last three months! I can even share this audio recording with you-"

"One single conversation isn't enough to base an entire sting operation on." Kneehouse frowned. "It could have been staged in pageantry-"

"AND-" Cyborg pointed. "I worked in close partnership with Dr. Ray of Phaser Labs for two days straight. We measured the radiation signature leaked from samples of Gordanian technology in our position. We scanned the City, found a match—an odds of nearly two million to one—and zeroed it in on the time and place announced to be the route of transport! In the meantime, Robin interrogated two gang members from South Central—and found corresponding testimony that led to the same conclusion! A shipment of alien goods was being delivered through Old Downtown! We knew the location, we knew the direction, we knew the time—The only thing we didn't know was the recipient! If we had found that out, we could have uprooted the secret of the Jump City Underworld once and for all!"

"Mr. Stone, the Underworld _**does not exist!**_"

"It does! Can't you see the evidence-?"

"The only evidence I see is that I should have written a big flaming 'N-O' on the temporary commissioning of your team here in my city!" Kneehouse growled. "You had yourself a handful of data—but it led you to a dead end, _your_ end—if I had my way!" She walked around to the opposite side of the desk and leaned against it. "But I'm afraid it's not that easy for me. By the time Kobayashi's complaints pierces the deaf ears of Jump City bureacracy, the red tape will have been too slow to stop you from attacking a preschool next, or a senior citizen home—All in this pathetic attempt to find your illusionary _Underworld!_"

"Commissioner..." Cyborg sighed. "You're being unfair."

"And you're being paranoid!" She barked back, standing straight up—like a rook about to knock over a petulant bishop. "All your work with Dr. Ray at Phaser Labs should have taught you a thing or two about the scientific method! Instead of working with a null hypothesis, you and your team made up a result in your head and experimented in a passionately stupid attempt to _prove_ it! You made up this Underworld—and in the hope to prove its existence, you and your team members mercilessly throttled Jump City's most important businessman and his fellow innocents! Such is the cost of thinking with your heart and not with your head, Mr. Stone, even if you've only got half of one."

"Don't insult me, Commissioner." Cyborg muttered back, an icy monotone. "I don't come here insulting you."

"Mr. Stone..." She narrowed her eyes. "I'm no James Gordon. And I'm certainly no Dan Turpin or Maggie Sawyer. I'm not blinded by either madness or light. I see you—I see what you're trying to do—and I see how you are failing." She slid the chair out and oozily sat down in it, and in a suddenly calm voice spoke louder than in all her previous shoutings: "The fact that you and your team are here in this City, trying to pull this superhero nonsense off—It _is_ an insult, Mr. Stone. _You_ are the insult to every officer who respects his or her job. And, after tonight, god help you if you're not an insult to every good-natured citizen who dwells within this City, trying to make an honest living."

"But Commissioner-"

"First and Final, Mr. Stone..." She held a finger up. "God help me, but I'm giving you your first and final warning here. If I had my way, you and your team wouldn't have walked away from Kobayashi's entourage without irons on." She folded her granite hands together. "But such is not within my power. Not yet. But until the City does something about it—I may not be able to stop your team, but I sure as Hell can _arrest_ it. Bear that in mind."

"..." Cyborg took a deep breath. He turned. He touched the door handle, opened—but stopped for a brief second. "..." He turned about and faced her once more. "Funny thing about people like Commissioner Gordon and Commissioner Sawyer..."

"Yeah?" She blinked.

"They became household names because they were willing to _listen_."

"..." She stared. "Why are you still here?"

"Hrmm...Askin' myself the same dayum thang." Cyborg exited, shutting the sound of her snorting breath behind him.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

On the other side of the door, Cyborg stood before the great misty lengths of the Jump City Police Department. A curtain of cacophonous keyboard strokes, murmurs, ripping paper, and fax machines fell within a single breath. There was an undeniable plethora of heads turned to face the 'superhero'.

He faced them all back. "...What's the matter?" He muttered, then a cackle: "None of you ever seen a robot before?"

Righteously so, the noise and clamor of midnight office work resumed. Officers trudged back and forth, switching shifts. Detectives stopped mingling together and went back to their respective desks. Computer clerks resumed their report-makings.

Cyborg sniffed. He trudged stiffly towards the nearby stairwell. As he did so, he glanced instinctively towards his right—and found a pair of bleary blue eyes, familiar eyes, framed over a similarly familiar face of grizzled standards, marking a mostly unshaven middle-aged man with thinning hair and even more thinning breath. The detective stood within the crooked doorway of his office and took a long, torturous puff out of a cancer stick.

"..." Cyborg eventually glanced away from the man, his head hung by a weight of invisible shame and confusion. He trudged on and through the stairway door.

"...hrmm..." The detective took one last puff and flicked his cigarette butt into the stalks of a potted, plastic plant. "Frickin' refrigerator, what've you got yourself into nao...?" He exhaled smoke from his nostrils like a bored imp, limped into his office, and closed the door hard—the name 'Decker' rattling in a loose placard off the woodwork.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The door closed behind him, Cyborg groaned and trudged depressingly down the echoing stairwell of the Jump City Police Department.

"_So how did you take it?"_

"AACK! JEEZUS CRISPIES, dawg!" Cyborg held a hand over his titanium encased heart and swiveled about.

"..." Robin stood silently in the shadows of the stairwell a few steps above the half-android.

"Didn't I tell you how much I hate it when you do that?" Cyborg stammered. He brushed smooth the hairs on his head that he didn't have and leaned on a nearby railing for support. "I don't care how much you wanna play 'Smoke Wins' in Gotham, but—" Victor Stone paused, blinked, then squinted his one human eye incredulously at the Boy Wonder. "What do you mean 'How did **I** take it'?"

Robin calmly lipped: "I assume the Commissioner was her normal ill-tempered, unreasonable, obstinate self."

"And so were her vocal chords." Cyborg pantomimed an eardig. "She didn't even let me get a _word_ in, dawg! It was just like that time with the gas station explosion, or that one time when the Neon Hand member broke his leg and made pretend that Raven drop-kicked him. _Raven—Drop kicking him!_ HAH!"

"She's never liked us from the get-go."

"Who, Raven?"

"Kneehouse. It makes it easier for her to take anyone's side but ours."

"Yeah, well, everyone's got a bias, man. It just sucks when it's someone you're supposed to depend on for support." Cyborg paced about the stairwell.

"But can you really blame her?" Robin swiveled slowly to keep facing him. "What just happened tonight is our fault. Both you and I know that."

"I can understand it being our fault!" Cyborg gestured confused shadow-puppets before the flickering lights of the stairwell above them. "What I can't understand is _what we did wrong_ in the first place! I've never been wrong about detecting trace radiation! And neither has Dr. Ray!"

"Nothing's perfect, Cyborg. Not even machines."

"The ironic thing is that you're nao accounting for both halves of me..." Cyborg briefly chuckled. A beat. He spun about and glanced at Robin with an eye of momentary suspicion. "You _**sure**_ that the two men you were interrogating had it on the ball about the Gordanian technology being smuggled _tonight?_"

Robin shrugged. "Just about as sure as they were that I was dangling them upside down twelve stories above the city streets when I interrogated them."

Cyborg shrugged. "Man, you _do_ realize that people will say anything under pressure?"

Robin's eyemask narrowed. "I hadn't asked them a single question yet. They told me under their own volition."

"..." Cyborg slowly turned about, rubbing the human half of his head in thought. "Still, though, they-"

"-could have been feeding me false information. As a setup." Robin nodded. "I had thought of it."

"Did you do anything about it?"

"I trailed them."

"Trailed them?"

"After the interrogation." Robin clarified. "I followed them from the rooftop where I had dragged them. It was the reason I was the last to arrive at Faustina and Fifth Street.. Both men immediately grabbed a truck from a Rent-A-Car and fled Town."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I assume exactly what it always meant back in Gotham. They ratted out on their gang. They'd be dead if they stayed here."

"Still..."

"Not enough for us to stand on. I know." Robin unfurled his hands from beneath his cape and cracked a few knuckles while thinking aloud: "I was overconfident. I didn't think twice about the evidence I had gathered—or that you had gathered, for that matter."

"Jee, thanks."

"Come to think of it, I didn't have any second thoughts at all..." Robin said. His lips trailed off, his head tilted to the side. "...that is, until it was too late."

Cyborg glanced over at him swiftly. "What do you mean?"

"When we first caught sight of the entourage—When we assumed it was the gang members making the delivery—Something felt _wrong_."

"Wrong in what way?"

"It all felt too easy." Robin said. "I had expected something to go amiss before the first car ran parallel to our ambush position. Either the caravan should have stopped, should have picked a detour, or-"

"-or what?"

"My first time doing an ambush of this sort, several years ago—We had to call it off. One of the Riddler's trucks came to a stop, and the entire convoy doubled back to the shipyards. We tried chasing them down, but it was too late. They had gotten lost in the woodwork. It took Batman two days in a row infiltrating warehouses before he found the vehicles and we could finally get the drop on the madman's operation."

"What went wrong?" Cyborg asked.

Robin replied: "Nightwing had been spotted. Riddler paid local gangs to have roof-watchers lining the buildings of Gotham along the delivery route. They weren't henchmen or hired guns—Just normal citizens from the streets of Gotham, desperate and impoverished enough to be the eyes and ears of a psychopath for a night, if it meant a bite to eat. I'm guessing Nightwing had been too accustomed to working Bludhaven city beats at that period of time. He had forgotten the rhythm of things, and we lost ourselves a painless opportunity to turn the Riddler in early."

"But this isn't Gotham or Bludhaven..." Cyborg said.

"Yes. I'm well aware of that."

"Perhaps the gangs here don't quite have that same level of know-how, dawg."

"Still...People _know_ that we're trying to play an active role in this City. If they don't know how to thwart our operations yet—They will soon. I've been expecting this—But saw none of it tonight. That's when I started to feel..." Robin tensed slightly under his cape. "..._worried."_ He finished. Then: "When we attacked the caravan in the streets, that's when I started to realize—my concerns were on the ball. I should have foreseen it."

"Yeah, well..." Cyborg chuckled and waved limply at the Boy Wonder. "Not everyone's Batman."

"I'm complimented. Thanks." Robin matter of factly replied.

"...Huh..." Cyborg blinked. "I had kinda figured that would piss you off or something."

"And why would you want to do that?" Robin's eyemask briefly glinted.

"I dunno! Tch—It's cuz I'm just so frustrated, man!" Cyborg stumbled thumpingly about the stairwell. "You're not the only one to have gotten the whole run-around Ego City tonight!"

"I'm afraid I don't read you."

"That test that Dr. Ray and I ran—The one that detected the radiation signature—It was _flawless!_"

"Indeed."

"Don't give me none of that neutral opinion attitude crap!" Cyborg pointed jabbingly at Robin's chest. "You sound just like Raven!"

"I don't know Raven well enough to make a sound description of her attitude."

"There you go again, dawg!" Cyborg chuckled incredulously and continued pacing about the stairwell. "Well, ever since I became leader of this ragtag group of ragtags, I've observed _plenty _of sound descriptions! If Raven was here, she'd just go 'Boys and their toys will go out and break things' or some other smug crap like that!" He turned and pointed at Robin. "There's a **thing** about science—Something that's kept me _alive_ when for all that's good and holy I should be _dead!_ Science may not be perfect, but it is most damnably _probable!_ And there's only one in two million chance—a chance in _hell_, I might add—that Kobayashi's entourage would be emitting the exact same radiation signature that we were looking for, the one that corresponds to Gordanian technology!"

"Was the same signature there after the ambush?"

"Pft—You were _there_, man!" Cyborg gestured with both hands. "I did a scan immediately when the cops arrived! It was still there!" He turned about, hands at his side, then waved again. "It w-was faint, but it was still th-there!"

"..." Robin glanced aside at the walls. "All previous radiation samples taken from Gordanian tech has remained prevalent for far longer than that..."

"What difference does it make?" Cyborg barked. A beat, and he rolled his eyes back and groaned: "Okay—So maybe...just _**maybe**_ Kobayashi's entourage was _infected _somehow—Like, if they happened to drive within close proximity of the gangmembers' delivery _that we were looking for_. And then, like, somehow they all saw Kobayashi's caravan, got a little snickerish with themselves, and said: 'Oh hey, look at that, a group of vehicles going down the exact same path that we were planning to go and looking very conspicuously like our own transportation—let's double back and do this delivery another night even though we'll be gunned in the head if we don't do it tonight! Why not! Just to screw with Cyborg's HALF-A-HEAD'!"

The android sighed, a huge slumping of his shoulders, and then he chuckled.

Robin raised an eyebrow above his mask. "What?"

"Heh heh heh..." Cyborg shook his head. "Commissioner Kneehouse, that's _WHAT._ Heh—Can't believe the balls on her to tell me, straight to my face, that I have 'half a head'. Heheheh...stupid, stuck up overmuscled-"

"At least she said that you thought with your heart." Robin said with a shrug. "Sometimes, for tough cookies like her, that's a sideways compliment, even though it's framed within an insult."

"Yeah, well, she sure does know when to-" Cyborg stopped dead in his tongue's tracks. He blinked over at Robin. "Were you listening in on the two of us the whole time?"

Robin's hand brushed with a pocket in his utility belt, closing it. "What would give you that idea?"

"Heh...Never fails." Cyborg shook his head. "Always trying to one-up me."

"I just want to keep up with every detail, Cyborg." Robin said with a slight smirk. "You know that I would never do anything to undermine you. Besides...I don't want on my shoulders what you've got on yours."

He nodded, slowly. "I know you don't, Robin. I know you don't."

A bit of silence. The flickering light above them buzzed a deep bass echo through the concrete stairwell. A moth fluttered about it, creating a schizophrenic slideshow against the wall.

"Robin, for real, dawg..." Cyborg looked up at him. "Does...Do we...I mean..."

"..." Robin waited.

Cyborg gulped, then smiled for courage. "Does this whole thing we're doing have any _hope_?"

"What thing are you talking about?"

"This team. This thing I'm trying to start—What we've _all _been trying to start ever since...yanno...we all came back together, after three putrid months of aimlessness. We came back together—And look at what we did, and then compare it to what we're doing nao—And I'm starting to wonder, man, is this team going to make it? Do we have a chance?"

"I only see two of us here."

"That ain't fair, man!" Cyborg groaned. "I speak for the whole team! You and I are the only ones here because we can share that sort of confidence!"

"But there's still only two of us here." Robin reemphasized. "If you want to know hao the team is doing, then ask all of us—together—when we're in a group."

"Nnnngh...I don't see what the point is in asking _you_, man..." Cyborg stands up, shrugging his shoulders. "If you just keep _evading_ like that. Hell, perhaps it _answers_ my question. If I can't have your support, then whose can I have?"

"You know that you have my support, Victor." Robin said. His brow furrowed in an attempt to emote sincerity through his mask. It only could go so far. "This team is all I have. This City means more to me than you can guess."

"But then you've got Gotham City to fall back on, right?" Cyborg said, but it wasn't accusatory. The young android looked genuinely sad. "None of us even know your _name_, dawg."

"..."

Cyborg rubbed his head and leaned over, gesturing as he murmured just above a bare whisper. "A few weeks ago, you told me something—something that I can never, ever forget, Robin. You told me that you do not fear death."

"I believe I did." The Boy Wonder nodded.

"Well, don't you think that there are fates worse than death?" Cyborg asked. He stared. "I mean, you see the two of us here, huddled like rats in the stairwell of the Police Departmet, too dayum ashamed of ourselves to show our faces, too lowly to even leap to the next rooftop and chimney-jog our way back to HQ—yanno-like _superheroes_ should be _entitled_ to. And don't you think it looks familiar? Like six waterlogged, pathetic kids watching an alien ship sink into the Bay? Heroes out of pure circumstance?"

"If I recall, it wasn't circumstance." Robin remarked. A gulp, and the next breath came out of him coldly: "It was sacrifice."

Silence. The stairwell felt colder, deathlier.

Cyborg eventually nodded. "Yeah, well, ever since that night in February, when shit hit the fan, and the UFO hit the ocean—we've been running circles, man. Dayum annoying, pathetic circles. And try as we might, we just can't seem to cut it. I mean, we've got the right stuff, just not the same luck. If a Gordanian armada doesn't drown us, or three months of soul searching doesn't split us up—I'm dayum sure Commissioner Kneehouse and trollish hardcases like her are gonna bury us. But I ain't settling for that. The god forsaken circle of light isn't gonna spit in my face. Not if I have anything to do with it."

Cyborg marched firmly down the steps. Robin towered over him, looking down.

"Don't be so grim, Cyborg."

"Yeah yeah—I'm the leader. I should be more optimistic, instill hope in our confused and thinning numbers—blah blah blah. Write me some Cliffnotes while you're at it, Boy Wonder." Cyborg waved back without looking.

Robin spoke as the echoing android marched out of view below. "Don't forget, no matter what people may say about us, we've saved this City before. Shortcomings are shortcomings—I'm sure we can achieve the same success again. It's never too late to begin again."

The footsteps stopped, echoes too. _"Is it, Robin?"_ He crept backwards till just his head was in sight again. Cyborg smirked back up at the caped crusader. "What was it you said—Sacrifice saved us? And not circumstance?"

"Yes...?"

"We had then what what we have nao. A full deck of cards—a Royal Flush, even. Only difference nao—heh—is that we ain't got the same wildcard."

"..."

"See ya back at the Bunker, dawg. I know you wanna go brood on rooftops and stuff. _Say hi to the moon for me._" And Cyborg was gone.

Robin stood alone, always alone. But as Cyborg's words dwindled in his head, he found his gloved hand lingering at his utility belt—mostly the seventh pocket from the center. But he did not open it. Not there.

He did nothing.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The Bunker.

Eight Rooms—Nine, if you count the large hallway/gathering room that connected them—They clustered together in a four-acre large subterranean labyrinth, festering just three bare stories beneath the streets and sidewalks of Jump City, a part of Phaser Labs, which was—to the surface dweller's eye—a three story scientific laboratory/institute for learning, squeezed rather claustrophobically between the darklit side streets of Jump City's Western District below and the roaring overpass of the Metropolitan Interstate above.

The whole place felt like one giant pressure cooker. Between the echoes of the Interstate traffic roaring through the concrete overpass and the cacophonous urbanity beneath, it was a miracle that any research could be done with any semblance of quiet. It was a joke among many Jump City citizens that Phaser Labs was the ghetto version of its much more affluent and smartly constructed counterpart—STAR Labs—which was located deeper into Downtown, where it was less cluttered and—most certainly—less dirty. Graffiti lined the walls of buildings adjacent to Phaser Labs, bars fitted the windows, and on a few random street corners one could find homeless people and shifty-eyed loiterers huddled about burning garbage cans, with nothing to eat and nothing to say. This was Central District Gang territory—a home for miscreants who sought to induct from the young and desperate. Dogs barked in cliché fashion every other minute, and it was obvious that the managers of Phaser Labs took into great account the depth of all this atmosphere—in that they erected a concrete barrier around the ground level facility with a thick metal gate at its front. In the end, Phaser Labs looked like a granite money safe smothered by a concrete interstate ribcage. It resembled a prison more than a place of scientific experimentation. Perhaps, it could have served as both.

How ironically fitting, then, that this would be the location for the Bunker.

The Bunker...where currently, deep underground...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

...Beast Boy _fwomped_ down onto a sofa in the gathering room, looking over a thick book constructed out of mysterious red leather. Across from him, a blonde girl sat in the dim underground light, demasked—but still clad in the blue two-piece uniform with silver stars. Far off, in a lone hover besides the automatic doors to the upstairs laboratories, a robed sorceress levitated with a book in her hand. In an even further corner, flanked by one of the polynumerous concrete reinforcement pillars, an amber-skinned alien with green eyes stood, hugging herself, gazing off into solitary thought.

"There's gotta be a way to read this thing..." The green elf murmured to himself. He tilted and twisted the red book around in his hand as he squirmed in the sofa. "...Zoey gave this to me. She could have kept it to herself after Razzar gave us both the evil eye—She could have made a fortune with _somebody_. But, she gave it to me. Guess I should try to make do with it." He squinted his eyes and twirled the book around again. "I wonder if I have it upside or not-?"

"Do you always make so much noise when reading?"

"It's how I make do until they drop a television or an Xbox down here..." He smirked. "Whichever lands first."

Courtney Whitmore grumbled. She plinked away at a calculator and scribbled a bit more on notebook paper as she tried to shirk off his noisy essence from across the desk. "Look at Raven over there—She isn't making any noise!"

"Don't drag me into this..." Raven murmured.

"Drag you into what?"

"Exactly." Raven flipped a page.

Stargirl sighed. "I'm never going to get this done."

"And what's so _astronomically_ important that you must have this underground place reduced to a tomb?" Beast Boy toothily grinned. "Emphasis on the '_ass_'."

"For your information..." Courtney glared over. "Some of us actually _have an education—_in addition to the whole superhero thing. I've gotta do this trigonometry exercise, then read four whole chapters of Great Expectations."

"Don't bother. The butler did it." Beast Boy uttered. "With a calculator, laced with cyanide."

"..." Courtney squinted at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"I was talking about the trigonometry assignment. I have no idea what the heck happens in Great Expectations."

"Rrrrrgh...I should go do this in my room. Alone." Courtney moaned.

"Why the big hurry?" Beast Boy gestured from the sofa. "I mean, the first second you walked in here, you just took your mask off and sat down to your homework. No pomp, no dainty circumstance. Don't girls have a 'homework outfit' that they're always caught wearing when people randomly film them for yogurt commercials?"

"I don't have any _time!_ I gotta do this homework overnight and mail it to Blue Valley High. The outfit stays on."

"I swear! That's gotta be how Wonder Woman goes to the bathroom!"

Courtney stomped the calculator squarely in the middle of her notebook and glared daggers at the elf. "Will you just...just...cl-clam it?.!"

"Heheheheh!"

"What's so funny?" Courtney fumed.

He pointed, grinning wide. "People with braces _should never try_ to be angry."

"Ugh..."

"It looks like a sea of pez trying to break out of prison."

"**Fine**. You know what?" Courtney smiled bitterly and reached for an mp3 player on an adjacent table. "I'm drowning this all out just so I can drown myself in work."

"Hey! No need to be Ophelia Squared!" Beast Boy flipped his red book open to a random bunch of pages and pointed within. "Help me decipher this thing! See? It's got runes and stuff!" He squinted at it. "No pictures, though, unless that 'character' is Elmer Fudd throwing up into a soup can."

"Good night, Garfield." Courtney stuck a tongue out and slipped the earphones on, muffled noises squirming into her cranium. "I'll bug you back in the morning."

"Heheh...She said 'bug'," the namely Garfield chuckled to himself. "If this was England, I could sue her for trying to come onto a minor...Or for trying to fix her teeth. Whatever." He flipped the book around some more. "Where're the chapters in this thing?"

"Congratulations..." Raven's voice lilted over the musically distracted homeworker's head. "You've managed to single-handedly drive off the only normal person here."

"Nuts to you. If she heard that, she'd probably give you a fist full of veiled, virginal insults through retainer wire. Watch your back..."

"She has a point, though..." Raven droned, flipping a page with her telekinesis as she hovered, hovered, not even looking his way. "...your annoyance is legendary."

"Yeah, well, it looks like I'm not the only person who can chit-chat and read at the same time."

"Give me a phone call the first moment that statement makes any sense."

"Don't mind me, I'm just trying to delve into the biography of Erno Rubik here..." He twirled the book around one last time before tossing it with a defeated sigh towards the foot of the sofa. "Dammit, Zoey...Razzar..." He cackled. "What's the use in giving me a book that makes about as much sense as a dolphin car magazine?"

"Is it a thick book?"

"To me, a postinote is like reading James Joyce."

"Then I'm sure you can find a hole in yourself to put it away." She flipped a page, boredly. "Preferably the one that makes the most noise."

He grinned. "Then you'd only have half a chance of stopping this conversation."

"Hah. That's a good one," she sarcastically murmured.

"You know, for a female Merlin, you really are a male Morgan la Fay."

"I...am not...a magician." Page flip.

"Sure you are. And I bet there's a rabbit waiting at the bottom of a really deep oil reservoir, waiting for you to pull it out of a hat."

"If I didn't know better, we were both living in that hole right nao. Some of us even eat and sleep in it. Others of us—which shall remain nameless—fester and make jokes to cover their patheticness."

"Hey! That's unfair!" Beast Boy planted his hands on his hips in a pout. "I am not nameless."

"Predictable down to the T." Page flip.

"You can have my T, girl, but not my A." Garfield chuckled to himself. He leaned back and smiled towards the low, concrete ceiling. "Ohhhhh I am just too good."

"Before I came to this world, I had thought I'd familiarized myself with all unevolved forms of demons and imps. Little did I know that I would find the embodiment of all the drooling, mindless minions of Limbo rolled up into one green-haired ignoramus."

"If I understood half the words in that last statement, then I might pretend to be insulted."

"About the best you can do, regardless." Page flip.

"Ohhhh...heheheh..." Beast Boy chuckled. "Girl, you are good! You are really, really good at this."

"Do you mean that?"

He frowned bitterly. "**Yes.**"

"Hrm..." Page flip.

"Swear to God..." He muttered to himself as he laid back on the sofa with his eyes closed. "...if she's smiling right nao, I'll yank out her forehead stone and sell it on eBay marked as 'Priceless Satan Turd'."

"_Not too far from the truth, actually..._"

"Shut up, Merlin le Funk."

The sound of automatic doors opening, then closing—And then a series of hard metal footsteps stomped into the local surroundings.

Beast Boy opened his eyes and craned his neck in time to see a certain titanium leader's limping form. Nevertheless, he beamed.

"Hey, Cy! Welcome home to the Angst Cave!"

"Now's not a good time, Garfield..."

"Since when is it not? Cheer up!" He held a high-five up. "Gimme some **skin**, man—_Er...whoops...eheheheh_...Y-Yanno what I mean."

"..." The android glared up at him. He lifted a creaking arm up and gave the elf a cold, lifeless, palm-to-palm slap.

"Eheheheh..." Beast Boy sweatdropped. "I'd ask for 'down low' too, but I kinda wanna walk straight in the morning."

"Whatever."

"Come on, Cy!" He hopped up to his feet and waved. "Stop and chat! What's up?"

"What do you _**think**_ is up?" Cyborg barked, shaking the room. Some of Courtney's notebook paper furled over her writing hand and she scrambled to set it straight. "We bombed out—a historical bombing-out in the _annals_ of superheroes bombing-out—just mere hours ago, I mind you, and what do I come home to?" He gestures about a room. "A catatonic alien, a purple-haired bookworm, a dental experiment doing homework, and an elf on ritalin who sees a robot and think he's Google with legs so he can plug just any stupid bunch of words in! Well, I'm done being insulted for the day—so I don't need anymore from a little grasstain like you! So if you don't mind, I'm going to the laboratory so I can spend the last scant hours of the night trying to salvage what's left of this team and see if I can maintain our financial state from the last three weeks of screwing things up! Like, what else is new?.!"

He stomped off as Beast Boy blinked-

Page flip. _"My hair is blue, not violet."_

"**Nuts to you!**" Cyborg stopped to bark at her. "Hell, if I decided one day to dunk my head in the toilet and suddenly become half as untouchable and frozen as you, do you think I'd hesitate for a moment? Stop pretending like what's happened to this team doesn't have a single damn effect on you!"

"Who says it doesn't?" Raven remarked. "I've already meditated an hour ago."

"Celestial books on tape might get you one step closer to Nirvana—but it sure as hell doesn't change what night this happened—I-I mean what happened night this—I mean-"

"What is it nao?"

"For your information, Raven, **I just lost my train of thought**!" Cyborg planted his hands on his hips. "I just spend twenty minutes being yelled at by a police commissioner with a body of a locomotive and a yellow caped crusader who probably wants to lay himself in front of one! So, farewell and adieu—Which in your elusive emospeak means 'stay the hell off my back'! I'm going off to work. Good night!" Cyborg turned—and ran smack dab into a concrete support strut. _**CLANGG!**_ "UNNGH!"

Starfire suddenly spun and gasped. "Cyborg!"

"Owie..." Beast Boy winced.

"Nnnngh—SonuvaEinstein'sAnorexicCat that HURTS!" Cyborg reeled. "_H-Heh!_ Half-a-head my ass, _that brick-boobed bimbo!_"

"Heheh...I don't know whom he's insulting, but I wanna join in!" Beast Boy chuckled.

Starfire hovered over to the leader's side. "Are you damaged, Victor?"

"Nah...N-No, Kory..." Cyborg patted her shoulder, stepped a few paces, and punched an identical concrete pylon. _**SMACK!**_ "Though that _would be_ better luck than all I've had tonight."

"You must not exert your temper upon the scant pillars maintaing the structural integrity of this place!" The Tamaranian stammered. "Is it not our only home?"

"For some of us, maybe..." He glanced into the shadows. "And for how long...?" Silence. He shook his head in the ennui, sighed, and trudged off towards the lab on the far side of the Bunker. "See ya in the morning. Bright and Early. I gotta meet up with some of my people."

"Fare yourself well, Victor..." Starfire remarked, staring after him pensively. The automatic doors to his lab opened and closed, and he was gone. They were all...gone...

"..." Beast Boy glanced at the doors, at Starfire standing isolated and vulnerable, at Courtney engulfed and distracted, then at Raven distant and uninvolved. "Yeesh..." He slumped back down into the sofa. "Is it just me, or has every boy in the Bunker turned into a Simon Cowell and every girl into a Rosie O'Donnell?"

Courtney suddenly mumbled. "I think you've gotten the genders switched."

"Snkkkkkt—Hehehehehe!" Beast Boy reeled at that, clutching his tummy. "Hahahahaha! Ah yeah...Yeah—H-Hey!" He blinked at her, then squinted. "I thought you were listening to music!"

Courtney briefly lifted one earphone. "Willie Nelson. I can talk over it."

"Ah. So what stick do you suppose went up Cyborg's butt—And is it USB compatible?"

"What do you _think_? He's doing his best to keep this team together. This is his City. He's gotta play representative..."

"Yeah...well..." The green elf scratched behind one pointed ear.

"...AND financier...AND technological supplier...AND public relations communicator-"

"B-But he _ELECTED_ himself to do all that crud!" Beast Boy waved his arms for emphasis. "Heck, if the spotlight was on me, I'd just say 'nah thanks, give me bad guy butts to whip and doughnuts in the morning' and I'd be just fine and dandy with that!"

Courtney giggled slightly and gave him a sly look. "Don't you think that—as a young man—Cyborg takes pride in being able to do what he does?"

"And don't you think that you being a young woman trying to presume for a young man that you are most certainly out of your league to be in someone else's league?" Beast Boy blinked. Something sizzled inside him and he slumped down to his chair, moaning. "Ugh...I think I just broke my brain..."

"I've always thought Cyborg was trying to do too much—But you know how he is."

"I thought I did before he went all Defcon 1 on me."

"Well, you asked for it." Courtney stuck a tongue out. "But what I mean is—He's really trying to do too much. He's holding our team, leading it, and advertising it all at once."

"Well, it kinda sort of _is _his project, don't you think?"

"That's not how I understood it." Raven spoke up.

"Who asked you? Go back to Vampires, Roses, and Maxipads."

Page flip. "This team started because we all needed a place to be. We needed each other."

Beast Boy glanced at her wyrdly. "Is this the same Raven who was here a few minutes ago or did ECW have a reunion?"

"I mean it." She glanced over for once. Her blue eyes still. Serious. "We all went our separate ways. And for three months, we floundered."

"Speak for yourself." Beast Boy smirked and nudged the red book with his toe. "I was kicking ass."

"And I was trying to save my own." Courtney also added, scribbling.

"But when we all came back—after going separate ways—We found something, right here, waiting for us."

"Yeah...Heh...We did. Didn't we?" Beast Boy smirked. He turned over to look at Courtney. "Don't you think so?"

"I'll answer you after Hank Williams..." She smiled and rocked to the music as she finished her trigonometry.

"Unngh...Someone drown the Opry already..." The elf groaned, then half-yawned...

"_We did not all come back..."_

Beast Boy's yawn was cut short. He swiveled about. "What was that, Kory?"

She bit her lip. "Not all of us had the luxury of rediscovering him or herself. There have been many things that have transpired—many of them joyous. But it is foolish to think that we are anywhere near the same as what we once were..."

Beast Boy twirled and kicked off the rear of the sofa. He landed and padded up to her. "Don't sound so gloomy, Kory. I hate it when you sound gloomy. It's like five million kittens being beaten at Guatanamo."

"Do not attempt to distract me with metaphor, Garfield." She briefly frowned down at him. "You know exactly what I mean. Three of your Earth months ago, we were more than we are nao. Does it seem of any surprise that this team is going through so much tribulation in...maintaining itself as a team?"

"H-Hey...Come on..." Beast Boy smirked. "That ain't always true! Three years ago, Negative Man left the Doom Patrol. He said it was for personal reasons and it was permanent—and everyone on my team accepted it. And you know what? Without him, we kicked just as much butt—Even more! We did away with General Immortus twice—_in one month!_ We made record time saving entire European countries! You see, Kory, a team is what it makes it! Even if it loses members!"

She looked at him with sad, melting eyes. "And what of us? Cyborg is attending to workaholicism as an excuse for the male brooding. You and Raven pick at each other like two Vegan Scavenger Beetles. Robin ventures alone into the Jump City night like he is not one of us. And Courtney is encumbered with the trials of 'normal' Terran life." She leaned forward, looking emphatic. "Just what are we _making_ this team to be as of this moment, Garfield?"

The elf bit his lip. A few bulbs of sweat. For the queerest of half-minutes, he was speechless.

It was obviously a half-minute too much. Koriand'r took a deep breath, nodded sullenly, and hovered up off her feet. "I see. If you do not have an answer, I will attempt to formulate one—for all of us. As Cyborg has stated, I will see you in the morning."

"Kory, come on, don't-"

But she flew off, taking the passageway that led down a long corridor which opened up to a remote Jump City landfill that concealed the Bunker's emergency exit for the superheroes.

"Phweeee..." Beast Boy scratched his neck and looked Raven's way. "I don't suppose you have a word to say about all this."

Nothing but a page flip.

He ran a hand over his eyes and sighed. "Well, I do..." He picked the red book off the sofa and trudged liquidly off towards his room in the Bunker. "But I promised Rita I'd wait until I was eighteen..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Robin perched, alone, on the edge of a weathered twelve-story apartment building. Tattered, scantily lit neon advertisements strobed weakly beneath him, filling the surrounding air with an intermittent, crimson glow. Beyond him, the silverish skyline of Jump City lay like a cemetery slab beneath the twinkling stars. Glowing Japanese and Chinese characters flickered towards the North—nearer to Downtown. Towards the South, a brilliant Bay shimmered with the wavefronts dancing under the night's sky. Biting the horizon—skeletonous and half built, like a partially dismantled crucifix—was Stone Tower, a monument in the making. Scanning along bayside, skirting the distant landmark of the Georgeton Suspension Bridge—Robin's eyemask eventually settled on another porous monolith, the partially built skyscraper that marked the center of Downtown: Kobayashi Tower.

Jump City was a young metropolis. And with each passing day, it felt like something new was being built—or starting again. Circles upon circles, a place with little history making even littler histories within the navel of its own being.

It would be an exciting place to be, to run, to jump, to fly—To not be afraid to begin again. But Robin's heart remained steady, serene, unlit. He had his cue. It hadn't sounded yet.

After the longest of pauses, he reached a gloved hand to his utility belt—once more the seventh pocket from the center. He snapped the pouch open and reached fingers in...slowly removing them. And when he did...

Shades. Dark shades. They fitted loosely in his palm—Made for a head slightly smaller than his. They were speckled with bits of dust and debris, scuffed and cracked in a few places—the sign of having been through hell and back...

...or perhaps in the other direction.

Robin turned them over in his grasp, eyeing them with no less confusion than he had on so many a week previous...or month previous...

Three months. And so many losses, and so many victories...

And nao...

A wyrd sensation, unnamed, as Robin's mind limped back an hour or two, and he heard once more Cyborg's passive words under a cadence of descending footsteps: _"We had then what what we have nao. A full deck of cards. Only difference nao is that we ain't got the same wildcard."_

Robin's mental footsteps sunk too—Into the glossy surface of the dark shades, until they suddenly blinded him with an enormous golden beam. Robin squinted. He looked up—Looked East, over the Atlantic.

It was six in the morning. The Sun was just beginning to rise. Soon, the day would begin. Morning, noon, and night. Opportunities and endings. Patterns and spheres. Full circle.

He didn't know why, but it was enough to afford him a smile.

"Heh. Sky's the limit."

The Boy Wonder pocketed the dirty shades away with a _snap_, pulled out a grappling hook, stood up to the edge...

And jumped.


	2. Time to Pretend

The Tower is a creepy and lonely place. In the early morning mist it shimmers, even as a skeleton, like a forest of concrete slabs and steel lattices stretching up into the sea air. Perchance a beached whale, its ribs exposed, trying to take off towards the heavens, would resemble this half-built, forty story tall absurdity.

Such a sight greeted Cyborg, and Cyborg alone, as he quietly stole a company boat across the width of the Bay, stepped aboard the Island, and ascended the hollow heights of Stone Tower—blanketed by dew in the wee hours of Jump City Dawn. After hours of wracking his head against the Bunker's laboratory computers, he couldn't sleep. Insomnia is a remarkable thing for a teenager who's built with an 'off' switch. He shuffled with every step he took, allowing the metal soles of his fabricated feet to scrape against the nubile dust of the freshly molded concrete floors...level by level...until he lingered at the junction of the lateral support struts, forming the horizontal apex of the towering would-be monolith.

Through a translucent curtain of plastic tarp, Victor Stone emerged, embracing a twice-thick soup of gray Bay morning. Abandoned cement mixtures, steel girders, and various construction equipment ghostily drifted through the mist on either side of him as he strolled forward. A sheen of moisture formed cooly against his metallic dome and neck; the rest of Victor's body remained hidden under a two piece jacket and gym suit. He was dressed to appear before public—but there was nobody there but him. There hadn't been workers in the Tower for nearly three weeks—the same length of time since he and his new friends had decided to go into superheroic business together. There were only so many funds that could be circulated among so many departments, and with the new partnership with Phaser Labs and the need to supply the 'Bunker', Stone Industries had to make a cutback in the Tower's construction, at least for the time being.

_The time being..._

"Nnnngh..." Victor exhaled through his nostrils. Words shouted the night before—both from his own mouth and those of others—ran circles through his cybernetic head. Circles and circles, circles within circles. A brief flicker to his red eye, and he closed the flesh one, cycloptically leaning to the side as he held a naked hand out to grab a loose dangle of chains from the ceiling. He hung on it, drifting with a momentary seabreeze from the gray concrete horizon beyond, and indulged in all the senses that he had long lost but allegedly regained: the drifting spray of salty air, the sound of seagulls, the coolness of spring, slowly decaying into the purgatory of a summer to come...

Seasons, changes, years, futures, past tenses, present tenses...

Circles.

"_There's no stopping this train we're on." _Somebody said. Perhaps it was him. _"Even the ones that wreck—they keep going."_

A painful twitch—deep from within the leftover meat of Victor Stone's inner being—and he forced himself to reopen his right eye with a jolt. But when he did so, he didn't see the open floor of the steel Tower. He saw...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Three Months Ago)**

_-the night sky was upside down from where it was supposed to be. Outside the window, an immense field of flickering blue chaos loomed horrifically into view. There was no doubt about what was going to happen in the next minute or two—Cyborg realized. He gripped to the alien computer with iron-wrought fingers, crackling the console's lopside surface._

_The Gordanian battleship was plummeting straight for the Ocean._

_Stargirl clung to a nearby wall and stammered across the noise: "Uh...I-I hate to sound like a whiner...But wouldn't nao be a good time to get out of this thing?"_

"_Cyborg!" Robin's voice shouted from the other end of the careening chaos. "Please tell me this thing won't explode once it hits the water!"_

"_You expect to live forever, Bird Boy?" Cyborg spat, frustrated with the night, the alien invaders, the insensitive whimsies of life. While forcibly autopsying the extraterrestrial computer with his bare hands, he flashed a look across the rumbling compartment-_

_-and somebody flashed a look back. A boy clinging to the green elf. A frightened boy, a stranger._

_His eyes..._

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Victor's jaw tensed. The mist reappeared, the present fell back on his shoulders—along with everything else. Just like the night previous, under the ear-splitting chorus of Kobayashi's indistinguishable sputtering, his metal shoulders sagged from it all.

"_You look like you've seen a ghost."_

Victor started. He spun around to see a middle-aged caucasian woman with full-shouldered black hair step up in a business suit and coat. She smiled at him—not friendly or sultry, but the kind of smile a chiding parent would give to a child having returned home after sundown with dirty hands.

"I suppose every machine deserves one." Cyborg replied.

"One what?"

"A ghost." He loosened the neck of his jacket and wiped the sheen of moisture from his brow. A long exhale, ending in: "H-H-Hey Nancy." Then a boyish smirk. "Hao's the hidden staircase?"

Ms. Drew rolled her chestnut brown eyes. "You're the only person I can tolerate using that joke, considering all your other things I _tolerate_. But, seriously Victor—Today of all days?"

"I'm sure the foremost polite thing to do would be to ask you just hao much sleep you've gotten last night-"

"No more than you, I'm sure."

"Yeah, but I'm only half human."

"That's an excuse that's failed to impress me months ago—So why should it make any difference nao?"

"Because you're my favorite Chairperson-"

"-and only Chairperson."

"Right..." Cyborg paced over by her side. "...and if I can't keep you in good spirits, then god help me find a legitimate reason to keep you at all after this most recent...er...late night...urban t-tomfoolery?" He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, I do get a queen's salary for dealing with all of your supposed 'tomfoolery'..." She smirked, then exhaled a tyred breath. "But if you keep at it with these midnight miscarriages, I just might get twenty to life by association alone. You certainly are a _handful_, Mister Stone. At least when your father was running the show, I didn't have to move the corporate doomsday clock every coffee break."

"My father was also very, very boring." Cyborg grinned wide at her. "Come on. Admit it."

"And that boredom is a thing of the past. Today and nao, we're dealing with what could possibly be the worst financial partnership fiasco since the first implosion of Lexcorp-Stone five years ago. Come on." She pulled out a PDA and motioned at him. "Walk with me."

The two of them strolled along the lengths of the half-constructed floor, blanketed descreetly in the morning mist.

"I trust you'll finish your legal report before we walk over the edge..." Cyborg murmured.

"Morose. But cute. Look here-" She pointed with a stylus towards an outline of the last twelve hours, digitally displayed. "On fourteen separate occasions, our agents have made phone contact with Kobayashi's agents."

"I trust that you and I know our agents more than we know Kobayashi's agents."

"We've invited them to more Christmas parties, if that counts."

"Well, alright."

"And on four different occasions, our company's representatives have met, in person, with Kobayashi's people. One occasion was myself, right here, at-"

"Five thirty in the morning!" Victor cackled as he read off the PDA. "Admiral Ackbar, woman! Did you ferry yourself straight over here just _after_ the meeting?"

"Nonsense. I used the company yacht." Drew replied with a half smirk. Then serious eyes. "And there was _no_ meeting."

Victor's human eye blinked. "But I thought you said—"

"I was allowed inside—just beyond Kobayashi's doorstep—but I only had one sentence with the company representative. Well, one and a half: 'We thank you for your fervent show of concern and retribution. Not ready yet...'"

"I'm guessing...er..." Cyborg rubbed his neck again. "One of Kobayashi's _inside_ inside men."

"I swear, Jump City should just make Japanese a required secondary language. It would help us a lot. And by 'us', I mean _me_."

"And what of Chinese?"

"No thanks. I'm not hungry."

"Er, Nancy, that's not what I meant-"

"Anyways, the other three representatives weren't any luckier," the Stone Industries Chairperson went on. "Kobayashi doesn't appear ready or willing to discuss the terms of possible legal retribution for your...uhm..._unprovoked assault _on him and his men—Which, by the way, I'm curious, did you actually zap three of his men with a sonic cannon?"

"Okay, nao someone's _obviously_ exagerrating the facts." Cyborg gulped. "It was...er...only _two_ of his truck drivers that got zapped."

"Hmmmm...how quaint." Ms. Drew tapped the plastic edge of the PDA in absent minded thought.

Cyborg blinked. "What is it?"

"I'm just recalling...A long time ago, an upstart young secretary attempted to plaster a sexual harrassment suit on your father."

"_Graves vs Stone_. Yeah, I remember that."

"It was all a smear tactic from an external source, of course, and it was swiftly dismissed through the courts. Made us open our eyes to the extreme woes of large corporate legal pits, at least." She flipped a digital page in the PDA and added a note to the current day's schedule. "Who'd have thought that over a decade later, I'd be having to defend the same innocent company on the account of teenagers flinging cars full of businessmen across the street?"

"Like I said..." Victor reached a hand up high and flicked at a dangling tongue of plastic tarp. "...my father _**was**_ the boring one."

"Boredom isn't **costly**, Victor." Drew bravely looked up at him. Stern, aging eyes. "What you're doing with this company—the direction you're leading us in—it's a very noble thing..."

"There's a 'but' coming along here, and we're not talking about the sexy Halle Berry kind, I imagine..." He absent-mindedly skidded around a loose concrete slicer.

Drew shrugged and folded her arms behind her suited back. "Do fill us both in, if you wish-"

"'BUT'." He looked at her. He repeated, cackling this time. "'**BUT-'"** He nudged loose a mountain of mortar, shuffled through a cloud of dust and concrete clippings. "'-Stone Industries' owner and heir apparent is a misguided young neer-do-well. BUT—Stone Industries' illustrious head of corporate business is an overgenerous philanthropic madman! BUT—Stone Industries' poster boy, pet robot, pathetic money changer—is a half-brained, hot headed, circuit blooded menace, dreaming up a villainous Underworld that has only been proven to exist by every forensic, scientific, and testimonial piece of evidence from here to Hoboken! But none of that matters because—_again—_he only has _**half a brain'!**_"

A brief, pulmonary pause...

...and then Cyborg snarled, and with that snarl he kicked, and with that kick he sent a ninety-pound wheelbarrow sailing, crumpled, off the edge of the Tower and into the mist. A violent breath or two later, and a resounding splash interrupted the otherwise naked morning from far down below.

Chairperson Drew said nothing. She stood there silently, patiently, eyes to the floor...

Cyborg stood at the edge, sighing, hands dug in his pocket, in a pose that suggested a frozen effigy to unfinished work: his half metal body, the half built Tower, the yawning light of a day not even halfway born.

He looked sullenly over his shoulder at Ms. Drew. He took a hand out and gestured limply towards the gray slated mist before them.

"I...I-I had a vision, yanno? A vision—that this City of mine, a City that just a year ago I wouldn't have given a crap about—that it was suffering, and yet could be fixed. That all Cities in need of salvation from the dirty and corrupt could be fixed, if people took what my father did—the people whose lives he improved, the diseases he cured, the cancers he remitted—if with a Tower like this, with a solid team like I've gathered here just weeks ago, with the strength and determination of just a few brave souls—everyone could all come together and make something out of nothing, and then maybe there could be something good being built in this City for once. And I don't mean the kind of good that Kobayashi is building—that's a different kind of good. A kind of good which...nnnghhh...I_ unwittingly pissed all over on_. But I guess that's the problem when visions collide. The results are real, just not the kind of ones you have in mind. I suppose Commissioner Kneehouse is right in some respects. I've focused too much on the _vision_; I draw similar conclusions about everything else. I should be going into all of this chaotic experimentation with a _null hypothesis_, building useful things via the dream, not building dreams via the good intention. Most dreams turn out to be nightmares if forced upon the wrong people. For instance—_heh_—would you look at this huge-ass thing we're standing on? 'Stone Tower'. My god, hao could I have been such an idiot? I've read the newspapers. I know what everyone is saying about it, about what we're all building here: 'The Jump City Eyesore'. An unfinished testimony to broken dreams, and dollar-eating delusions. A circle broken and completed, all in one loop. I don't know where I'm going with this, Nancy. But if last night's any indication, maybe I should just quit while I'm ahead."

His voice stopped. The morning mist refilled the air. Seagulls cackled overhead, suspended in a brief lull before flocking away.

Finally, Ms. Drew cleared her throat—clearing the deathly lack of noise—and uttered: "You are a vision realized, Mr. Stone."

"Heh...as if."

"As is." She nodded, speaking in a neutral monotone as she paced before him. "Look at yourself. You, Mister Stone, _are_ your father's vision." She pointed. " Flesh and bone and metal and circuitry and all the philosophical juices in between."

"For what it's worth..." The heir apparent muttered, glancing away.

She strongly gripped his arm, forcing him to look at her. She said: "What was once abstract _has_ turned out to be an undeniably concrete, howbeit rock-headed citizen of Jump City." She chuckled lightly, the edge of her lips curving. "How fitting for a Stone...and hao appropriate a thing to be proud of."

He blinked at that.

"I've met Commissioner Kneehouse before. She's four women in one—and all of them bitter. Whatever insult she's crafted to make you feel horrible for something she has absolutely no control over, **get over it**." The sternress returned in Drew's face. "Right nao, your company needs its head manager—its _real_ manager. Not the figurehead with a queen's salary that stands before you."

"Don't you mean the figurehead who happens to do all the real work?" Cyborg smirked at her.

"With the apartment I own in Downtown—You're damned right I've worked hard for it." She twirled the PDA in her hand. "So, Mister Stone—the flesh and blood Mister Stone—hao do you intend for us to deal with Kobayashi's flesh-and-blood lawsuit that may or may not have anything to do with your flesh-and-blood vision come to life?"

"And flinging all sorts of flesh-and-blood energy projectiles at his employees' flesh and blood, et al?"

"Indeed."

"Seeing that we haven't heard anything certifiable from them as of yet, I imagine either Kobayashi has died of an internal aneuyrism, or he's calling all of his overseas lawyers to find a clause about digging out my heart." Victor sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, the flesh part that is. "Nnngh...I swear, if Michael Bay decides to direct a sequel to _Pearl Harbor_, it'll be filmed inside our legal department. No special effects needed."

"Have you at least talked to Madeline?"

"Wh-What?" Cyborg suddenly did an explosive double-take at the sound of that name. "Where the Hell did that suggestion come from?"

"Flesh-and-blood aside, the two of you have engaged in continual correspondence..." Ms. Drew matter-of-factly stated.

"It's not at all what you think!"

"I'm not choosing to think anything—Only to observe. She _was_ rather instrumental in helping you expose criminal behavior within the company's interior. Certainly you would have bridged a connection for-"

"I'm not putting Madeline through any crap..." Cyborg muttered. "Sure as Hell not for this."

Drew's eyes narrowed. "Is this for professional reasons, or personal...?"

"Let's say if I'm my father's vision come to life—like you just suggested..." Cyborg winked pleasantly at the chairperson. "Then I don't want it ending with my spine severed in several pieces."

"Suit yourself. It's a waiting game then."

"Yeah...isn't it though...?" Cyborg exhaled, gazing towards the center of the Tower from whence they came. "Moping around here hasn't done much for the situation. I suppose I could pass the time at Stone-Tech."

"Oh?"

"I moved some of the projects I've had set up at the Bunker over to there. With the Phaser Labs partnership and all, I've got a few laboratories set up. There's this...well..." He smiled shamelessly for the briefest of seconds. "...there's this wicked fly _car_ I've been designing."

"...for your team, I imagine."

"Heh...yeah. Sure, why not."

"And if your vision is so prophetically decimated by an ensuing lawsuit with our hitherto partner in Jump City stock...?"

"That's the thing about visions—Through flame or through Ragnorak..." He patted her shoulder and smiled. "They still remain visions. And you can still pluck things from them."

"It's never worked for me."

"Oh? Why not?"

"My 'visions' include cloning David Duchovony."

"Ah...Well, hao about the next best thing. Breakfast? On me, of course."

"Pfft—Are you kidding?" She rolled her eyes and pocketed the PDA away as they strolled towards the base of the Tower. "It's _always_ on you."

"Ha HAH! Ain't it the truth..."

"By the way, I heard the transitory elevator has been a bit faulty as of late. What if it quits halfway down the shaft and we're plummeted to our doom?"

"You kidding? Then I'll catch your worrisome ass!"

"Hrm...I knew I could count on you for _something_, Mr. Stone."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Old Downtown.

Jump City.

Fifth Street.

St. Faustina Cathedral.

The traffic was redirected. Cars stacked up in clusters, being let through bit by bit, as city workers waved red rods and rearranged fences of yellow ribbon—squaring off a splot of pot-marked asphalt where various piles of glass were being swept up and, at last, the final damaged vehicle from a previous night's debacle were being towed away as discreetly as possible under the brightening sunrise. A flock of onlookers paused in a steady line of curious, craning faces: Men, women, children, walked dogs, people going to and from various businesses—a bicycler or two—even a homeless person. A girl in a brown beret stood at the inlet to the Cathedral's rear lot, took a snapshot with a 35mm camera before slipping it back into her bag with a smile and trodding off. Finally, a line of schoolchildren led by a nun gazed and chattered at the scene. One of them, an eight year old girl, glanced up towards the marble rooftop of the Cathedral and pointed excitedly, hopping up and down. The habit'd chaperon paid little attention to the girl's mesmerized squabblings, and instead tugged her and the rest into the waiting schoolroom.

Up above...far up above...a herculean jump...a shadow perched, a young sixteen year old shadow. As the sunrise scaled the height of distant skyscrapers, glinting golden rays made their way in and bounced sharply off Robin's yellow cape as the young vigilante took a miniature camera out from his utility belt and took a snapshot of his own, then a second, then a third—stealing every spectrum he could capture from long distance. A deep breath; he squinted down with a mere eyemask nao, saw all the nothing he had expected to see, and then pocketed the camera way inside his utility belt, the sixth pocket. _Snap._ His gloved hands then lingered, hovering about the seventh pouch from the center, but moved away as quickly as they hesitated.

With a twirl of his cape, the Boy Wonder aimed a grappling hook away from the sunrise, leapt off the Cathedral's face, and swiftly billowed his way Westward.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Robin:)**

**April 21st, 2004**

**Jump City Entry # 107**

"**Today marks my sixth month of patrolling Jump City. I've made friends—I've made twice as many enemies. But in spite of all of my victories and defeats, I don't have permission to call this place home. For all of my efforts, I still do not know this City. But the City knows me—knows us, the team—far better than any of us know it. And that's a bad thing. I'm aware of this, and I thought I had grown beyond this. Yet I've been forced to re-learn this over and over again, and each subsequent time is more embarrassing than the previous. Last night was no different.**

"**I've got a lot to improve about myself.**

"**Fortieth hour without sleep. Cakewalk—compared to Gotham days. I do it out of habit. Cyborg does it out of nature—A man with that much circuitry in his skull could average thirty hours without feeling the least bit tyred. Today, from what I understand, he's going on _ninety_. And that beats _my_ record. I'm impressed. He'll chalk it all up to his responsibility as team leader, of course. Though that may be a truth to us—his loyal teammates—it's a lie to himself, a lie that he had tried clarifying to me just before sunrise:**

"**Cyborg believes quite intensely—howbeit sickly—in a haunting series of circles within circles that's determining the fate of his life, the rotten luck we—as a team—are supposedly suffering, and even the reason for why an air of victory three weeks ago has turned into an air of defeat overnight. I promised him that I would not rest either—Not until I've found a link to the mystery behind the catastrophe last night, and it was more than a _mere blunder_, I'm sure of it, but it's still a surprise and a setback, and all the more for us to learn from.**

"**Cyborg may believe in a life of self-prophecying circles, of blessings and curses that swallow themselves like microwaveable Jormungandr spawn. I suppose that's the vedic in him talking aloud, and with lack of sleep. I'm sorry to say I can't share his mystic view. Nine months ago, I learned differently. I can no longer think in circles; only in a straight line.**

"**I've been thrown back quite a bit on that line, but the arrow still points in the same direction. I've followed that straight and narrow path all my life, even when I didn't know what it was. And that's what I intend to do today—and somewhere along that line is an answer to what troubles our restless leader. I can only hope that it'll be an answer to keeping our team together as well. But even nao, I know without melancholy or sullen pause, that that's an entirely different thing, and much-much further away than a solution to the Kobayashi incident."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Robin swung onto the top of a warehouse in the Southern Industrial District. He perched in the shadowy alcove of an air conditioning unit and whipped out a pair of binoculars. He zeroed his vision on a large, wide-stretch of two-story brickwork nestled just four bustling blocks away from his position.

Robin surveyed Kobayashi News Studio—the center of JCN Broadcasting. At least, that was the temporary arrangement. In just a few months—timed through epic precision with the next mayoral election—Kobayashi Tower would finish its final construction, and the entire enterprise—the fastest growing audio-visual journalistic company in America—would move into one of the continent's record tallest skyscrapers.

Outside of the studio—in various modes of poorly hidden reconstruction—resided two delivery trucks and two SUVs, being surrounded by highly paid, antlike service men. Robin's eyemask narrowed. He reached into his sixth pocket and once more produced the camera—this time fixing a high speed lens onto it from the oppositely placed utility belt patch. He took several photos of the site, in corresponding spectral analyses to the Faustina site shots, and inputted the data into a satellite transmitter located at the front of his belt, just beside the latch.

"**Last night, we were not superheroes. We were monsters. No incident sparked this sudden switcheroo. No mad scientist levitated in and zapped us with an extraterrestrial gem that made us function out of character. We thought we were setting up the most dangerous and conniving souls of Jump City's Underworld. But it was, in fact, we who were being set up. As entertaining as television soap operas and wrestling melodramas may be on television, they hold little sway over the true Balance of Morals that weighs this world. Heroes don't just turn heel overnight. Legends like Hollywood Hogan are written, not born. But what matters is what the public believes. And what matters even more is what it means for someone—with the right resources and the right timing—to make the public believe what they want them to."**

Robin finished feeding the data to his transmitter, pocketed the camera and lens away, and stood lingeringly on the warehouse's edge. With a dwindling breath, he scanned the horizon with an emotionless eyemask, tyredly looking for anything—or anyone—out of place.

"**No doubt about it. Last night was a reverse-ambush, and we were the prey. Where the true doubt comes is in finding out just who did it, and hao. Because whoever foiled our ultimate plan must have an ultimate plan of their own, counter intuitive to ours, which could only mean that the Underworld knows that we're after it. And that makes the Underworld more real than either Cyborg or myself have ever hypothesized, even in our wildest speculations.**

"**When I chose Jump City as my new haunt—many of my former partners in crime-fighting thought I was crazy; to think that such a young, pristine town could be corrupted enough to warrant a vigilante's constant observation. They were wrong. Here in Jump City, there are monsters. And these monsters have names: the Dead Men—a group of former Hong Kong nationals plotting to exploit South American smuggling rings from the Pacific and stake a claim on the East Coast at the same time. The Neon Hand—a group of ex-Yakuza and splintered Intergang veterans attempting to maintain a fractured alliance with East Asian terrorist groups. The Central District Gangs—a confederacy of over two dozen different street gangs, all coalesced into a subterranean army that recruits children and homeless as soldiers; multi-ethnic, multi-gendered, multiplicitously diseased with a violent concoction of desperation and ambition. The Buzzard Gang—psychopathic European immigrants with jetpacks; enough said.**

"**The Underworld—spoken of as a taboo legend of something nonexistent—truly breathes in sleeping dragon slumber under the polished white concrete of this otherwise harmless urbanity. Some speculate that it's an actual lair. Others have claimed, even under intense interrogation, that the Underworld is merely a figure of speech, representing a porous conglomerate of separate gang members willing to work alongside each other for the purpose of exploiting the poorer neighborhoods of the Northern District. Whatever the case—the dragon exists—I have sliced into it, seen its blood, seen what it does, close hand, to the eyes of those who drink of it, having been promised riches, only to be reduced to rags.**

"**Yes, I have seen what spawns in the darkness of Jump City. So that, in the daytime, like today, I am reduced to a veritable Charles Marlow, walking the lengths of Joseph Conrad's sepulchral city—which this metropolis very much is—helpless to indulge in the faux beauty of things around me, for I have tasted so eloquently of that dark, inky horror that bubbles underneath. I've come close to the edge—for the second time in my life—of that great darkness, and I know that this City is dangerous. Yes, even more dangerous than Gotham City, for Gotham made no attempt to hide what slept in the recesses of its polluted bay—or on the shores of it for that matter. Jump City not only masquerades itself as a family safe neighborhood, it excels at it. And everyday people starve, die, and suffer to keep that illusion alive—and the Underworld is at the crux of it, dealing the cards at the table.**

"**Three months ago, a gigantic extraterrestrial warship fell smack dab into the lap of this two-faced City. The game changed, the table switched hands, and Cyborg and I and the rest of us shuffled up to the respective chairs that we had suddenly found open, asking to be dealt in. This City refused us, choked on us, tried to spit us out. But nao, with the cards stacked to the wall, it's resorted to what every gambler ultimately does—it cheated. Nao, we know what's at stake, and hao far the game is capable of going. And I'm betting Cyborg's beginning to suspect—as I myself had learned long ago—that it is high time we cheated back."**

Robin felt a weight in his utility belt. Real, imaginary, perhaps both. The seventh pocket from the center poked against his waist—reminding him hao many hours he had gone without disrobing from his uniform, if even to sleep. Had it truly been two full days? Almost...but still it was not enough.

The Boy Wonder glanced southward—and a sight made him freeze. He didn't register a startled reaction, merely a sharp, knowing one. A familiar sight, poisonously—and at the same time blissfully familiar.

A warehouse—an ordinary one, just like any other—rested square against the northern edge of the Bay—just as the estuary leading towards the Atlantic bent eastward, leading to the boardwalk and the commercial district that fashionably lined the rest of the coast until the Atlantic beachhead formed.

It was an ordinary warehouse—at least once, in its past. For as the roped off parking lot and the glaring signs in the front foretold, it was a converted dance hall, a place open only at night—when the artificial lights of the place could most prominently announce the place's festive existence to the cosmos. Four sprawling letters—currently dim—spelled the place's name in reverse to Robin, but forward to the glittering waves of the morning Bay.

'S.O.T.O'

Robin exhaled, and something inside him deflated—spreading outward, till his arms melted, crooking at the joints, as if inviting someone's slithering arms from behind—someone who wasn't there, though he knew not why, but knew even more not to question why; all the while his lungs stretched to inhale the absence of the nobody.

Perhaps he needed to sleep after all.

Robin snapped out of it, regained the serious furrow above his eyemask, and shot forth another grappling hook—taking him like a flinging comet northward, towards the Central District of Jump City, and the collecting smog within, beyond, below.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Hnnngh!" Courtney Whitmore snarled through braced teeth, pivoted her body, and swung her leg up like the careening blade of a skyrocketing windmill. _**WHAP!**_ A punching bag lurched on its chained support near the far end of the Bunker's Common room, a coldly lit atrium where a heterogenous collection of exercising equipment had been claustrophobically positioned. She twirled back from the forced blow, shifted her weight, and spun once more with a rising knee against the punching bag—_**Whump!**_-followed by two jabs-"Yaah! Haah!"-and a right hook. **THUD!**

A panting breath—the rattling of chains—and the girl in gym clothes lurched back onto two solid feet. Under a sheen of blonde hair and clear sweat, she inhaled, exhaled, juked-left-and-right to avoid invisible switchblades/clubs, and then spun with another high kick towards the topmost face of the still-rattling bag. "Nnnngh!" _**WHAM!**_

From a few yards away, a green elf whistled to answer the reverberating echo of her pugilistic exercise. "Dang, blondie!" Beast Boy grinned wide, huffing and puffing in knee-length gym shorts as he trudged his fourth agonizing mile on a treadmill. A loose white wife beater—made even looser by the weight of his sweat—hung off his bouncing green torso beneath the cold blue bunker lights above. "Who needs a big golden golf club when you can let loose on the street with _**those**_ toes?"

Courtney smirked a bit, paced about the punching bag, and gave it intermittent jabs. "I fought...for years...with nothing...but the Cosmic...Converter Belt..." She managed between tightened breaths. She tensed her upper body, elbowed the bag, and then side-kicked it hard before following with a spinning left hook. _Whump-__**THUD-**__THWACK!_ "The Cosmic Rod...is awesome and all. But I gotta...be prepared...for any situation..."

"Cool idea in theory." Beast Boy panted, tapped the treadmill controls, and sped the machine up by the tiniest of degrees. He ran and ran. "I've always sorta thought...that Vega was harder to beat...only _after_...his clawed gloves were off. Total quarter hog...if you know what I mean..."

"Your endurance is only matched by your obscurity..." The unmasked Stargirl pivoted, ducked, and came up with an uppercut to the center of the bag. _**WHUD!**_

"Don't you ever play video games? And don't tell me 'no, because I'm a girl'—Because that's a sexist myth perpetuated by the Catholic Church and Disney."

"I live in _Nebraska_." Courtney clenched her braced teeth and gave the bag two right hooks. "I would have commited grand arson by nao if it wasn't for Sonic the Hedghog."

"Heh..." Beast Boy sweatily chuckled. "Isn't being a kid superhero _enough_ excitement?"

"Being a part of the Justice Society doesn't get you Chaos Emeralds."

"Truefax."

"HIYAAA!" Courtney brought her foot up like a reverse meteorite, almost knocking the bag off its chains. _**WHAM!**_

"Charge down for two seconds then press up and heavy kick!" Garfield blurted.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. I'd kill to have feet as skilled as yours."

"Heh..." Courtney turned a brief red under the perpetual flush of exercise. "Don't covet what you don't know anything about."

"I'll have you know I've done plenty of badass high kicks in my day!"

"Yeah, sure. When you're a jackass."

"Watch it!"

"I was only...being literal...Garfield..." She huffed, puffed, and spun with a violent heel-slam to the bag.

_**WHAM!**_

The bag rocked violently, nearly lopping off Raven's blue head as the dainty sorceress walked into the room within a mere half-inch of it.

"..." She blinked calmly at the would-be decapitator, then glanced over at the blonde. "...From the cramped way in which Cyborg and Dr. Ray designed this place, he must have figured you weren't the only one who needed surprise dental work.."

"Oh h-hey, Raven..." Courtney steadied the rocking bag to a stand still and hung off it, blonde hair framing her head in sweat-soaked-strings. She smiled breathlessly. "You sure slept in late."

"I wasn't sleeping." She matter-of-factly droned. "I was meditating."

"Heh...What a coincidence...So were we."

"Really, nao...?"

"Yeah!" Courtney trudged over to a table and picked up a towel, dapping her forehead with it. "Some of us meditate with morning incense and burning candles, others do so by kicking the ever living fluff out of canvass bags with their feet!"

"And the rest of us like to watch!" Beast Boy breathlessly beamed.

"You should try it, Raven!" Courtney hung the towel over her neck before taking a brief swig from a water bottle, swallowing, and exhaling forth: "Who knows when the day may come when a good set of legwork could save you from a crazy henchman with a blade!"

"The day I find myself actually having to _kick_ something, it'll be a bucket." Raven muttered, shuffling across the Bunker. "Which will be _within a week_ at this rate, if I have to keep dealing with your constant ruckus and nauseating pragmatism."

"John the Baptist in a Tutu, Raven!" Beast Boy chuckled, lifting his shirt in mid-sprint to clear his green brow of sweat bulbs. "Let it out, already, girl! You were practically _born_ to be a mood-killer, weren't you?"

"Not all that far from the truth, actually..." Raven droned, stopping by the kitchen counter built into the concrete Bunker's wall, adjacent to the exercise corner. She poured herself some tea while murmuring aloud: "I take it that neither Robin nor Starfire have returned from their separate excursions into perpetual AWOL?"

"Robin's story is as much our speculation as it is yours..." Stargirl shrugged, took another sip, and then continued: "Starfire, at least, was decent enough to contact us an hour ago over the communicator."

"So, like, is she dead or something?" Raven murmured, cupping the tea in her pale hands.

"What's the matter, Raven?" Beast Boy raised an eyebrow. "Is something deep inside of you actually concerned over one of us for a change? I don't think there's enough liquid nitrogen to freeze Hell over."

The blue witch sipped, sipped, swallowed, took a quiet breath, and finally murmured: "Hardly. I'm just counting down till everyone on this team is unaccounted for at any given time except for myself."

"Uh huh...?" Beast Boy ran, panted, ran, panted. "Wh-What for?"

"Then that will be the sign, an even bigger sign than last night's calamity—that this whole thing is a mistake."

The green elf rolled his eyes. "Yanno, if you're so eager to give up on this team, nobody's stopping you from using the HQ's front door."

"And give up this herbal tea?" Raven blinked dully. "I may be a pessimist, but I'm not stupid."

"Hehehehehe..." Courtney giggled.

Raven squinted over at her. "What?"

"I don't believe for a second that you're _that_ shallow, Raven." The blonde put the towel and bottle back and paced once more around the punching bag. "OR that _insensitive_." _Thwack! Wh-Whack!_ "Why, I remember it like just the other day: Three weeks ago, when we began this whole adventure, at our first reunion since February—I could have sworn you positively _beamed_ over the prospect of teaming up. It's a really sad thing to be alone. I don't think you'd give up our 'annoying ruckus', not for a second."

"I am **not** afraid of being alone..." Raven said firmly, the tiniest hint of a frown lighting her face.

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Because I've been alone before." Raven throated. "For a very long time."

_Wh-Whack! WHAM!_ Courtney kicked the bag, clutched the thing, and leaned against it as she darted a pair of blue eyes Raven's way. "Just because you've had your own fears realized in the past—Doesn't mean they go away any, Raven."

"..." Raven stared blankly at her, like a blind statue from the bottom of an arctic lake.

A jogging Garfield bobbingly glanced at her, then at Stargirl, then back over at Raven.

"..." Raven finally blinked. "...Whatever." She said. She turned. She placed the cup away in the dishwasher and drifted towards the Bunker exit with the grace of an ice queen. "I'm going for a walk."

"Oh, are you nao?" Beast Boy sweatily smirked. "Say, if you and Starfire collide in mid-air and crash into the Ocean, can I grab onto your flotation devices?"

"Hardy har. You know, for 'beast boy', your training is hardly 'beastly'."

"Hey!" Beast Boy shrugged and kept sprinting. "If Stargirl can practice without her rod, then so can I!" A beat, a blink. "I-I mean, when I say 'rod', I mean my ability to turn into the whole animal kindgom and...uh..."

"Uh huh..."

"Yeah, yanno, forget it—_It was a **metaphor!**_"

"Indeed."

Courtney giggled.

Beast Boy stuck a tongue out at her. "You started it."

"Since when?.!.?"

"I dunno. I'll invent a time machine, go back to twenty seconds ago and make it so."

"Don't let the Langoliers bite you."

"Ooooh hoo hoo hoo!" Beast Boy grinned and wagged an approving finger at her. "Nice one, Blondie. One helluva stretch—but I like it!"

"I do try."

"That's a wyrd birthmark..." Raven remarked.

"Yeah, it's—Wait. H-Huh?" Beast Boy flashed the blue-haired sorceress a bizarre look, as if forgetting she was still there.

"Your birthmark. It's very peculiar." Raven droned, halfway out the doors, her neck craned to glance his way. "Coming from me, that should mean something."

"I don't know what you're talking about—OH!" Beast Boy rolled his emerald eyes, slowed the treadmill down, and glanced over his shoulder. "You mean this thing?" He raised his shirt just enough to expose the small of his back, opposite to his navel. A very obvious discoloration resided under his stretching fingers—a hazel hue against the otherwise immaculate green, jaggedly forming what—to a foreign eye—would almost resemble a twisted number '4' with an extra slash down the center. "Yeah, I've had it all my life. I can't seem to get rid of it."

"Get rid of it...?" Raven squinted at him.

"Heh...yeah. That's the silly thing about being a shape-shifter. You have the benefits of getting rid of zits and scrapes and scuffs—Quick as lightning! But a mole or a birthmark that you came into the world with always stays in one form or another, no matter what your DNA does to try to scramble it."

"Hmmm..." Raven shrugged. "I could have sworn last night, when you charged in as a ram—It was different. More like an anorexic omega symbol—not a mutated number four."

"Heh...Yeah, isn't that wyrd? I've never really been able to explain it, or what causes it for that matter-"

Beast Boy suddenly froze in his tracks, blinking stupidly.

_**Th-Thwump!**_ He scooted dumbly backwards on the canvass of the treadmill, gasped, faltered at the last second-"ACK!"-and plunged forward-barely catching himself on the side railings until he was being dragged in place. He slapped a sweating palm onto the 'off' controls and glanced breathlessly up at Raven, cockeyed. "H-Have you been _looking at my **tush**_?"

"Nonsense." Raven boredly droned. She dragged the blue hood over her bluer head and glided daintily out the door. "Just a meaningless observation."

"Hah!" Beast Boy cackled after her exiting form. "Meaningless observation **my ass!** I-" He choked on his own words, stuttered, rolled his eyes, straightened his sweaty shirt out and shouted once more: "Have you or have you _not_ been looking at my **tush?.!.?**"

The automatic doors closed coldly behind her.

"I don't believe this. I thought this was a superhero team—**Not a petting zoo**!" Garfield spun and waved belligerently at the blonde. "Have you seen her looking at my tush?"

But Courtney was presently in the process of craning her neck to see around the edge of the treadmill. "Silly...Just the other night, when we attacked the drug runners, I could have sworn it looked like a smiling face mixed with a 'W'."

"What—It-She-" Beast Boy flipped. "Have **you** been _looking at my **tush**?.!.?"_

"Pfft...Dream on..." She grabbed the towel, waved him off, and marched down the hall. "After all that exercise and calorie loss, it'd be a shame for your head to get fat."

"And just where the heck are you going?"

"I'm hitting the showers. Busy afternoon ahead."

"Oh yeah? Hot showers or _cold_ showers?"

"_Drop it, Garfield. You're imagining things!"_

"Dammit!" He slapped the console. "**Somebody** is looking at my tush and it's not me!" He groaned and slumped over, leaning an elbow against the treadmill's console. "For the love of god. I'm not used to being the elephant in the room when I'm not an elephant in the room."

_B-Beep!_ His elbow inadvertently pressed the max speed setting.

"ACCK!" He pratfalled over the speeding treadmill and out of view. _**TH-THWAPP!**_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**M'berassa travorka niul sebunn de X'hal. Fen'battu lamarta thriel, hessun d'vor tuuk.**

"**I am far from the everlasting flame of Your Womb, holy X'hal, most reverred, most glorious. And yet, under the stars or above them, I am ever yet Your faithful and loving child. Grant me the divine strength to forever hold onto Your joy, and allow me the righteous fury to honorably challenge those who would snuff it out. That I may ever be Your avatar of love and serenity in the darkest corners of the cosmos, dutifully working each day to bring light back to the edges of all Your holy Creation—for this I pray, and for this I thank You.**

"**With great humility and penitence, Your mortal beneficiary. Your daughter, for nao and forever. Koriand'r of Tamaran."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Two glowing emeralds moistly slid open, twitching before the invasive, golden light. Smokestacks and fog reflected like a dark forest in their gemstone brilliance, and yet they both stared on, undaunted by the soot and sediment of the crumbling world before them.

Koriand'r hovered several hundred feet in the sky, arms hanging at her side, strands of crimson hair and the edges of her skirt billowing in the polluted air. Before her, five blocks full of factories ejaculated smoggy mists into the atmosphere. The sounds of engines, machinery, and an occasional siren filled the gray ceiling above the Northern Industrial Complex of noonday Jump City. What wasn't a monotone slab of concrete below her was instead a profane splashing of gang signs or death threats graffiti'd onto god forsaken alleyways.

This was not a safe place to be. It was the only place where she _could_ be.

The Tamaranian warrioress took a deep breath, closed her eyes once more, stretched her arms overhead, tilted forward-_**FWOOOOSH!**_-and bolted south, parting a canyon through the thick soup of smog, skimming over the ashen rooftops like a gorgeous pearl being skipped across the top of a cesspool.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Starfire:)**

"**This is a dirty world, an ugly world. It is a planetoid filled in every cardinal direction with greed, fear, corruption, despair, and malice. It is an unhealthy place to live, a ridiculous environment to try to raise a family, and an even more absurd sphere for plotting a future. And I love it.**

"**I love all of it, from pole to pole, from horizon to horizon. I love its people. I love its criminals. I love its children, its warmongerers, its laughing fools and sobbing monarchs. I cheer with its ecstasies, weep with its deaths, smile with its hopes, and share its endless, exhausted breaths.**

"**I love this planet—this spherical rock limping so close to its golden progenitor—its tiny baked brothers and gigantic cold sisters. It was to this planet that I was one day cast, a slave fettered by the wages of the past. I had left it just as quickly as every other dust speck in this cosmic circle. Yet for all of Terra Firma's pain and terminal decay, after nearly five Vegan Moons of wandering, I could only come back to this planet—to this planet and to no other.**

"**For it is here that my true test in life waits, the one last exercise that the Goddess X'hal has in store for me—To see if I possess the wisdom, the passion, and the tenacity to manifest Her Will in a fashion long valued by my people, but often forgotten by them in all the galactic holocausts of ages come and gone. It is here, more emphatically than anywhere else in the wounded and weeping universe, that I can...be nice."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The rooftops skittered by below her—skyscrapers and apartments and warehouses—a sea of gray gravel, intermittently splotched with daily human life.

Starfire hung low to the buildings, barely edging her weightless body over them, dimming the lively green glow in her sympathetic eyes. She did her best not to allow any of the Jump City citizens below a chance to see her. It didn't appear a pleasureable task, not in the least. She resembled a starving comet, holding the fire deep within, stifling a delicious warmth—for fear it would ruin the budding neighborhoods below in a single, amorous burst—unwittingly sterilizing everything to death.

So the girl with soft amber arms saw everything and touched nothing. A spectator to the unspectacular, she lingered there—in a forward bullet—skimming the needy horizon like a moon in declining orbit.

Waiting...

Waiting to _understand_...

"**Shortly after my return, when Cyborg explained to me his vision for this team—and for this City—I learned very quickly to differentiate the aspirations of such a noble warrior as Victor Stone from the general pessimism of the civilization he so vehemently desires to bless. It is of no doubt to me that the multiplicitous and vulnerable people of this dwelling desire, howbeit secretly, the same virtuous platitudes that Victor upholds: truth, justice, and the 'miraculous way'-_or at least I do believe that is what he orated_.**

"**Nevertheless, the purpose of this small and seemingly trite 'team' we have formed is not to subjectively force such virtues on the general populace, even if it may be what is best for these people. For I have discovered a great noble mindset to the Homo sapien—that each entity is born with essential rights, rights that must not be trounced upon, even when it involves good intentions. The inherent weaknesses of Terrans—in individual numbers or in multiple—do not give metaphysical demigods the right to bend them into shape. There is a prime directive that must be followed, one that—when crossed—can no longer benefit the greater good through the mere righteousness of its sovereignty.**

"**This creates a very fragile line upon which I must nao step—forcing myself to let nature and balance precede the execution of my superpowers; I must not dig my hands deep into this breakable glass world in a vain attempt to help it on my own. By X'hal's light!-I have never before faced a challenge as intimidating as this—to be a savior in a world where to embrace someone means to shatter them in twain, or where to preach to people means to collapse an entire castle of precious ideas and dreams down on top of them."**

Starfire's eyes gazed along the streets to her left.

She saw—at an insectoid distance—the specs of people: construction workers paving a new sidewalk, commuters getting onto and off city buses, a pair of police officers standing at an intersection, a mother and child walking out of a pawn shop, four teenagers with backpacks taking a lunch break.

She glanced nao to her right.

She saw the Atlantic shoreline, the shipyards, transport ships ferrying in and out of port, supply trucks carrying goods in and out of the main thouroughfares of town, and the thick bustling highway stretching, curving over the whole miasma of activity.

Starfire glanced down immediately below her.

The alien girl saw the heads of basketball players dribbling across a court—then a dozen cars stacking up at a busy intersection—a line of schoolchilren walking up into a yellow bus—a pair of men washing a skyscraper window—then concrete, concrete, concrete—then flesh again.

The girl took a deep breath, elevated her flight to a safe distance, and closed her eyes meditatively...

"**Even nao, flying over their precious little heads, like so many a war-torn world I have soared above before in chains, I am at a loss to help them. I can only wait—only wait for an instance of dire circumstance that can necessitate my involvement, or else deign to do nothing until the authoritative voice of Cyborg awakes me from my aimless meanderings."**

Starfire opened her eyes. The summit of Jump City's current tallest building loomed before her. She flew over and landed gracefully between a giant neon 'A' and 'Y' that fitted a cryptic name propped atop the urban spire.

She stood and stared out into the winds that billowed against her beautiful figure. Those same emerald orbs that once dimmed in prayer nao burned with curious, tranquil hunger. They scanned the Bay, the Bridge, the twinkling oceanic frame of Jump City—before falling onto an unfinished letter to yet another cryptic namelessness, lingering out on an island that dotted the chaos with boastful purpose and grandeur.

A majestic tower...majestically empty.

Koriand'r felt a twinge in her being—A violent urge to fly over there in a blink. Because suddenly she belonged there—And yet she knew, especially so after the _night_ _previous_—That she hadn't earned the right to belong. Not yet.

None of them had.

Her breath became suddenly shaky as her green eyes fell off the stalk of the distant Tower and stumbled upon the familiar rocks and shoals that surrounded the island—flickering brightly, even from that far away, with the fitful sprays of turbulent bay waters, crashing, colliding, exploding...

And she twitched. And she remembered:

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Three Months Ago.)**

_Her hands burned, burned, **steamed**—melting deeper and deeper into the Gordanian metal. But it was not good enough. None of this was..._

_As she seethed, as she sobbed, the upside down world flickered and splattered all around her. She was vaguely aware of clamoring teenage bodies in the hallow penumbra of the imploding hellstorm. A lithe figure slithered through the rising waters to plant a cold glove on her shoulder._

"_Starfire...!" Robin throated._

_She shrugged him off, she snarled, she sobbed. "I am almost through to him..."_

"_Starfire-"_

"_X'hal! I am almost **through**!" She wasn't._

"_Starfire, let **him** go!"_

She screamed, she burned, her vision pooled into the hot green of blood and regret. "NNNGH—**NO**!" She shouted. She saw him, but didn't see him. His arms. His shivering figure in the alien streets. His tears evaporating down through a stratospheric descent. His eyes...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Koriand'r's eyes flickered a green plasma..

She gasped. A sudden shudder, and she reached a hand up, trembling, habitually grasping the silver armband placed stategically below her right shoulder. A shaking, a sighing, and she finally...finally let her eyes dim.

"..." She gulped, forcing away a lump in her throat, and hung her arms by her side as she once more stood upon the precipice of the Terran skyscraper, staring out onto the microcosmic antfarm of Terran obscurity below her.

Though she knew better than to guess, she couldn't imagine a single face looking back up. She was alone.

The girl exhaled, jumped off the edge, and flew. Drifting northward. No particular destination, no particular reason. Perhaps—if anything—it afforded her a chance to avert her eyes from the Bay. The Island. The waves.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**After the most embarrassing, most unglorious escapade that transpired last night with the esteemed Mr. Kobayashi, I find this fitful fight—this silence—this nothingness tasting all the more bitter. Three Terran months ago, I would have immediately responded by exerting my frustrations through misguided fury, tearing this helpless world in half to find an answer to our incalculable failure. But this is not even a remote possibility for me anymore. After all these moons, after hearing the words of Cyborg, after witnessing the courage of Robin, after being blessed by the..._sacrifice_ of an innocent, I can no longer pretend to be the same warrior that I once was.**

"**I am nao what I always was, but only with greater clarity...as well as lesser resentment. The warmth of X'Hal runs through me as it ever did, and the only resources I have left is to love this world—And I do adore it. I adore it so. But as I hover here, linger here, observing, watching, detailing, waiting—I cannot help but suffer the venemous volleys of suspense. Love is not without its painful byproducts—such is the natural way of things. But, where most species, from Vega to Alpha Centauri, find Love inexorably tied to Hate, my people—Tamaranians—we are not quite so easily diffused. For us, Love is far too commonly tied to Sorrow."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

A loud yelp.

It was when fluttering over a particularly tall apartment building that Starfire heard it—a shriek above the shrill hum of the City, an undeniable death scream/life scream of fear and desperation. A cry for help.

Her raised eyebrows twitched. She twirled about and flew sideways, squinting down towards the streets below as she slowed her forward momentum. Through wind-whipped strands of red hair, she noticed the figure—actually two figures, squirming and wrestling—within the shadowy confines of an apartment courtyard, nestled between two eight story living complexes. Sectioned off from the main arteries of the City, the two individuals struggled...only that was not the case. One individual was struggling, the other was dominating. It was an attack, and the air of suffering heated up around the pair—Starfire's beating heart could _feel_ it from over four hundred feet.

The girl's brow furrowed. She glanced briefly westward, towards the location of Phaser Labs—hidden beneath a highway causeway. Its landfill exit was even farther west, also hidden. Everything was hidden. The girl's jaw clenched.

"_X'hal forgive me..." _She murmured. Her fists tightened and her eyes strobed a sharp jade as she twirled about from where she hovered and dove heavily towards the scene. _"...but this __**is**__ a necessity."_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**Clang!**_ A redhead in a tattered halter top and blue jeans was shoved face-first against the metal bars of a trashed apartment window. "Jesus Christ, Baxter!" She shrieked, one eye tearing, the other one freshly bruised. "Get your goddam hands off me! You said I had a week!"

"You had a _weekend_, bitch!" A tall, unbathed heap of muscle hissed into her ear as he wrenched the redhead's arms painfully behind her, pressing the full brunt of his weight into her arched back. "The collection is at the end of the month. But the deadline's two weeks before! I told you last time, Zelda. Gather together your dough from the street and have it in my hands by Sunday." He yanked a dirty wad of bills from her twitching fingers and crumpled it up in front of her face, sneering. "Does this look like dough to you? It's _pigeon feed_, you stupid whore!"

"Screw you, Baxter..." she spat back, cheek scraping bloodily against the rusted bars she was forced against. She growled through gnashed teeth. "You're bullshitting! Just as always! We both know when the collection's due—You just can't stand to wait any longer! Wait till Diego gets a hand on you-"

"Diego ain't gonna do shit. I pay for your bed. I'm in charge of you, you ungrateful little turd!" He uttered heatedly. He was hyperventilating nao, tightening his grip on her, moving in close. "And I'm going to _get_ that payment from you..." The bills fell like tatters to the floor. His hand hairly squeezed the inside of her thigh. "..._hrmmm_-One way or another."

"You _wouldn't_, you sick **Bastard!**" She shook against him. "Every night this month you come home pissed cuz nobody gives you a second glance at the bar...So nao you wanna get your fun-"

_Thwud!_ He slammed her against the window once more. "I'd stop _talking_ if I were you..." Baxter grinned slimily. He licked her ear-

_WHAP!_ She kicked him in reverse, a little too close to home.

"Nnngh—Dammit, Zelda-" He wheezed, legs briefly bowing.

"Help! HELP!" She shrieked.

"Shuddup-"

"**FIRE!" **The woman panted, sweated, howled: "Fire! The apartment is **burning**-"

"I said-" He wrangled her by the shoulders and heaved her to the cobblestone of the courtyard. "SHUT UP!"

"Unnngh!" She fell down hard, wincing...tearing...

He heaved, heaved, and was just reaching to his pocket for a switchblade when—_SWOOOSH_-a figure dropped down right behind him.

His shoulders shuddered. "Grghhh..." He frowned. "Look, buddy, whoever you are..." He turned around. "...you're just gonna have to wait your turrrrrrr**Righteous shit almighty**!" He hobbled back.

Zelda clamored to her knees, turning about and panting.

"..." Starfire hovered an inch above the ground. She stared down at the woman, sensed the palpatating waves of horror and nasuea surging from her heart. She glanced over at the man, felt the heat pumping through his system, polluting the extremities. "...I do believe she has decided to refuse your intimacy."

"Look...Wh-Whoever you are..." The man stepped back, arms held high. His face was awash with a ghostly pale. "This...uh..." He blinked, glanced at his trembling hand, saw the switchblade, and swiftly dropped it back into his pocket. "...this, uh, isn't what you think..."

Starfire's brow furrowed. "Truly? Would you be so kind as to describe to me what is transpiring here?"

"Uh...I...Er..."

"B-Baxter...Who the Hell..._What_ the Hell...?" Zelda stumbled to her limping feet, eyeing the space between Starfire's hovering boots and the naked courtyard beneath.

"I know that it is the official edict of my team leader Cyborg that I not attempt adminstering solitary justice upon the people of Jump City until I shake loose the idiosyncrasies of culture shock..."

"...Who? What?..."

"...but I cannot allow, what appears to be here, a severe calamity of unfairness and violated rights."

"Look..." The man pointed a meaty finger and frowned. "Miss psycho floaty bitch, I know who you are. You're one of them holier-than-though super teens that's dropped in on our City thinking she can run the place. Well, you haven't got a clue what we grownups do for a living around here. So stay out of our business! This is between me and my girlfriend!"

"Then perhaps I should ask her to provide her angle on your diatribe." Starfire motioned with her head.

"Like Hell, you will!" Baxter leaned over and hooked his arm around the redhead. "Come on, Zelda, we're going."

"N-No!"

"I said we're-"

"Get the hell OFFA MEEE!" She shrieked and slapped him away with both palms.

He reeled, floated back, and snarled. "Dammit, woman-" He raised a fist-

_**THWIIISH-CLAMP!**_

"Waaagh!" Baxter sputtered as he was lifted forcibly, twelve feet into the air, by an amber wrist.

Zelda gasped, hands to her mouth.

Starfire frowned up at the dangling husk of meat in her burning grasp. "I know what drives you. But it is not pure." He looked him over, then relaxed her face. "If you do not know hao to properly use those genitals of yours, perhaps you would allow me the permission of removing them for you."

"Remove _this!_" He yanked his pocketknife out—_Snkkkt!_-and reared it over his head.

"Hrmmph." Starfire's eyes twitched a boiling green. She flicked her red hot fingers.

**SWOOOSH! **_"Yaaaaaaugh!" _The man meatedly flew, green smoke trailing, and flew so hard against a nearby dumpster, the thing crumpled in half. **SMASSH!** He keeled over on the floor, writhing in pain. "Ohhhhhh..."

"..." Starfire gently smiled. She turned over towards the trembling redhead. "There is no need to fear. Your assailant has been disposed of-"

"**F-Freak**!" Zelda cried, saucer-wide eyes brimming with tears. She choked up vomit, scampered away on bruised hands and feet, and scampered down an alleyway. "St-Stay away from me, alien! J-Just stay away!"

Starfire blinked, her lips parting in shock and confusion. "But...B-But I...Y-You were..." She reached an empty hand out...

"Nnngh...J-Jesus Christ..." Baxter stood up, cradling a burnt arm that was bent at the wrong angle. He ran in the opposite way, his pants soiled. "...fuu...fuu...fuu...f-for god's sake...sh-she's gonna kill us...!"

"I did not mean...I..." Starfire stammered, her shoulders beginning to tremble as she spun about confusedly in the middle of the courtyard.

A stirring sound, the sound of a garbage being knocked over.

She whirled about to look. A group of about half a dozen citizens had been standing at the rear entrance to one of the apartment buildings. One was runing away, tripping over garbage in hysterical flight. The others clung to the doorframe, looking at her in pure fear...and yet an animalistic fascination all the same.

Koriand'r clutched a hand to her chest as a wave of sickness fluttered—then oozed up through her multiple stomachs. The fact that they were staring so fearfully at her wasn't the kicker, but it was the dawning realization that they had been standing idly by, very likely watching the assault that Starfire had just cut short...and doing nothing. A brief, fiery anger coursed through the Tamaranian's system—registering off all the beating hearts of those who anxiously beheld her from afar. But all too quickly, that anger melted away, pooling into a sorrowful bedrock lying cooly beneath the fields of her soul.

"X'hal..." She repeated, this time in a low murmur. "Once more, do please forgive me..."

And she lifted off, and left the fiasco in a limp green dimness.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**I have spent three weeks on this planet that I am slowly learning to love, though all too helplessly continuing to mourn. In all of that time, I have yet to make progress, only observations. At the apex of what I witness is a divine tragedy, one that the fire of X'hal within me billows to cleanse, if ever some day it may be allowed of me to do so.**

"**Homo sapiens, from what I've witnessed, fear that which they do not understand. And yet, at the same time, they hold each other at a cosmic distance. They do not quite grasp the righteous Truth that my people do: To love and to trust each other is to understand all. When all is understood, then there is no fear. Why are so many precious, so many vulnerable, so many gifted people so afraid to love each other?**

"**A few days ago, while skirting the City much like today, I witnessed two citizens, having just narrowly escaped death in a horrific collision of their automobiles, then proceed to confront each other rather loudly in the middle of the street, just short of unmitigated violence. The smaller of the two went so far as to open the rear compartment of his crumpled vehicle and produce a long wooden club, presumably to smash open the head of his bitter rival. This threat reached its apex, with great volume and pulsating of cranial arteries, until both men withdrew, in an air of sullen defeat. It intrigues me that two complete strangers, having skirted the fangs of death together, would so suddenly turn upon each other. And they are not the only ones.**

"**As I navigate the urban estuaries of this domain, I encounter dozens upon dozens of hotly-tempered souls. These people are so willing to turn on each other, to threaten and unleash violence at a moment's notice. And this is not a healthy form of a challenging—no—it is not in anyway akin to a warrior's duel on my home planet. On Tamaran, the children of X'hal know that to challenge each other is to exercise the right to attack and defend, all necessary skills when living in a star system surrounded by vicious and unholy foes. I suppose that Tamaranians are oddly blessed to be suspended in such a horrible situation, bordered by Gordanians, Vegan pirates, the Citadel—we all know exactly who our enemies are.**

"**On Terra Firma, this does not appear to be the case. Uncertainty abounds, and Homo sapiens are at a loss to discover whom among their neighbors and loved ones deserve the one true unbridled wrath of righteous fury. I think this in many ways has something to do with something that was lost in the past—perhaps on purpose—as an entire planet of distraught people gave into a Great Complacency. Is not knowing what is evil so much worth not knowing what is good?**

"**I pray to X'hal, I entreat Her over this...And wait in patience for answers. For all of my strengths, for all of my powers, waiting is the only thing right nao that I can afford to do. I only hope, with my new friends being close by for when I return home, I will not have to wait alone."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The Stone-Tech facility was huge—half the Pentagon's diameter, though one wouldn't think as much from helicopter view. The one-story, gray-colored building nestled itself with amazing camouflage within the tree-laid gorgeousness of Jump City's Western District, an uneven patchwork of unsuspecting suburbs, community centers, and—of course—the esteemed Jump City Park. The West half of Town was an emerald in Jump City's eye—a blatant opposite to the Central and Norther sectors of the metropolis, rustically ugly neighborhoods even in the daytime.

Stone-Tech was the capital of Stone Industries. Very much unlike the towering skyscrapers that screamed out the names of Jump City's other successful tycoons: Powers Inc., Kobayashi, Wayne, Lexcorp, and Petracorp. It was this symbol of humility—this ground level communion with the neighboring everypersons of Jump City's neighborhoods that made Silas Stone's accomplishment persist as an enterprise, and not as an empire—and no other corporation was more essentially _Jump __City-ish_ than the accomplishments of the scientist-turned-doctor-turned-philanthropist, and his legacy unfolded.

And his son...

...the heir apparent had his arms stuck in a metal chassis, lubed over with grease, deep within the laboratorial bowels of the age-old facility.

"No no no—_clockwise!_ Lefty-Loosey! I don't know hao in blazes you do your thang down in Argentina, but here, everything is the same—_except_ for plumbing, and even that's different than Argentinian tubes—I'll bet your bottom dollar!"

"Ay, Dios mio!" The nineteen year old lab assistant stammered and repositioned the tool in her hand. "I had the ratchet upside down!"

"Yes. Si. Verdad. You had the ratchet up side down!" Cyborg nodded, forced to lie in a horizontal position. A glop of oil from the chassis overhead dripped down offensively over his red eye as he twitched and sputtered: "Nao do it **clockwise** before I can no longer resist the urge to rip this hunk-oh-junk off its hinges and german-suplex it through the nearest wall-!"

"Is that looking _towards_ the clock or _away_ from it-?"

"No, _not that way! Twist it back-"_

**CLANG!** After a series of failing mechanisms gave way, Cyborg found himself pressed to the tile floor with the entire titanium chassis of a vehicular prototype squeezing against his titanium chest. "Hsssssssnkkkt—_Okay, just what I needed to wake up_!" His human eye bulged.

"I-I'm so sorry, Senior Stone!" The assistan clamored all over the rigging. "This is only my second time working with this—and it is very much unrelated to Nuclear Fission-"

"Wait a sec—Hckkk!" Cyborg used his reserve strength to force the massive hulk of skeletonous metal off him. **_WH-WHANGG!_** He slid up to a sitting position, three slicks of oil snaking down his forehead. "You're telling me that you're **_not_** a motorist?"

"Que va! I wouldn't touch a car even if it leapt off a highway and ran over me, Senior! I work in atomic theory and synthetic molecular engineering! It says so on my resume!"

"But...it...You..." Victor pointed, blinking, in various directions, each. He squinted at her. "But I thought you were volunteering for Dr. Heather's department-"

"Oh no, Senior Stone. That's Team Beta. The Brazillian Department."

"And...uhm...You, of course, are-"

"From Team Delta, Dr. Kenneth's group, the Argentinian Exchange program!"

"...Well, _**of course**_ you are!" Cyborg beamed. "This was...uh...a test!"

She blinked. "It was?"

"Yeah...uh...a test within a test! I wanted to see hao well our international exchange assistants could function—uh—with _another _exchange, this time with less airport searches and passport checks."

She folded her arms and frowned. "Senior Stone, I don't know just hao many nuclear physicists you have worked with in the past, but you would be _una idiota grande_ to think of me as _that gullible."_

"Well, that's where you're wrong, f-for once!" He led her gently by the shoulder towards the laboratory's exit doors. "I, for one, think that you're smart as hell. In fact, you're...uh...una buena flauta in my book!"

She blinked a double-take at him. "I'm 'a good flute'?"

"Yeah. Something like that!" He all but shoved her out. _Schwiish!_ The doors shut behind her. He was alone. "Nnnnngh...dammit all..." He rubbed his head and lurched back towards the half-delapidted rig. "Eye di-lo mi-lo, indeed..." A beat, and he stopped to blink at the walls. "Why don't I just install a universal translator into my skull one day and have at it?" Another pause, and he shook his own head at that. "Nah...not worth paying royalties to Altavista..."

The rich, corporate heir, splotched with oil, squat before the nao-dented chassis of the would-to-be-but-never-to-be experimental vehicle, once a blueprint in his imagination, nao a blue heap across the floor, destined to rust.

"Unnngh...Who am I kidding?" He ran a tyred hand over an even more tyred face. "The more distracting the vision, the more of a pipe dream it is." He _fwomped_ down onto his rear, slumping against the bare naked tile floor. "Can't I just get sued already and get it all over with? At least Robin and the others can jump ship, anchor and all."

_Schwiish!_ The doors opened once more from behind.

"Nnngh..." Cyborg growled over his shoulder. "Look, Ms. Hernandez—I'm sorry if I insulted you. It's been a productively unproductive day, and I'm _this_ close to concocting a fourteen terrabyte migraine. Not even with twenty back to back Yoko Ono albums can you even _begin_ to comprehend what that feels like for a robot! I don't care what language su hablamo, or what have you, but..."

"I know many languages..." A royal, feminine voice lilted forth angelically from the doorway. Her footsteps were accompanied by a tapping noise. It all came to a stop, liquidly, like a dancer—as she said: "But jibberish is Greek to me. All sound and confusion, signifying nothing—or so I'm told."

"..." Cyborg raised an eyebrow, then bit his lip, then relaxed with a grin, then bit his lip again. He cleared his throat, stood up, and slowly turned to face, with awkward joy, the owner of said voice. "Uhm...H-Hi, Madeline...What brings you here?"

"What brings anyone here to your abode within an abode? To speak with you, of course, Vic..." A young woman Victor's age stood daintily within the doorway, her left arm poised, her right arm sporting a four foot long white stick held forty-five degrees in front of her. She was clad in a blouse—modest in form, elegant in substance—a fine vanilla cream silk, exported straight from Asia. From waist down, she wore a mahogany skirt, straight—like her jet black hair which fountained majestically downard to frame a porcelain neck. Atop the bridge of her nose, small, thinly framed glasses hid her eyes with a dark-gray tint; utilitarian but without losing elegance. Black hair, white neck, black glasses, white blouse, black skirt, white cane—a virtual Riversi-Othello princess, though she would hardly know it—yet gracing a gentle smile, as she strolled in with milky grace down the ramp and onto the center of the tiled floor, not faltering in the least, ultimately leaning on the cane that brought her in. "Spill oil all over yourself again, Victor?"

He narrowed his human eye, blinked, and clumsily rubbed the last of the smudges from his metal surface. "Uh...I...erm...H-How did you know? I mean...-"

"Oil is different to you than it is for other people. It's almost like blood, Victor. Why else would you be stammering like a child losing at the Spelling Bee as soon as I arrived?" The lightest of chuckles escapede her lips. "I hope you haven't contaminated yourself."

"Oh...Heheh—You know me, Madeline. I'm built to be water proof as well as oil proof." He chuckled, kicked absent mindedly at the edge of the chassis, and folded his arms against his chest. "...Nngh...And...And you know as well as I do, Madeline, that there's an entirely _different reason_ why I'm a bucket of bolts today—Literally."

"Would you like to talk about it?" She remarked, neck craning, lips ever so slightly curved. "Lord knows I do."

He gulped. "Y-Yeah, sure thing." He strolled over towards her, announced by his own footsteps. "M-May I...?"

"You may indeed..." She extended her hand. He gently took it and led her over to a chair in front of a worktable covered with random gizmos and electronic parts—a virtual battlefield of technological bric-a-brac. "...the room smells of ionized titanium. Have you tried welding together your dream car already, Vic?"

"I'll confess, Maddie..." He slid a chair over and sat opposite of her, his gigantic metal girth all the while dwarfing her snowy figure. "I've been doing a lot of things lately that I never thought I'd end up doing. And most of them, I am none too pleased about."

"You sound as if you have had no choice in the matter." Madeline said.

"Would you hate me any less if I said that I didn't?"

"Well, what do you believe, Vic?"

"I...uh..."

"Personally, that is..." She lifted her glasses off, folding them and sliding them comfortably within a blouse pocket. Her almond eyes swam in a sea of persistant, milky whiteness. He stared at Cyborg, through him. "Are you stuck having the cards that fate dealt you? Or do you learn to slip a joker in every once in a while..." She smiled. "...and mess with the whole system?"

"..." He smiled weakly. He glanced down at his hands as he rubbed his metal fingers together. "I...uh...had a conversation with Nancy about something like that—er—_this_, earlier."

"Oh?"

"About me being my father's vision—or at least she said so. But she made it sound like it was an evolution, and not a pure creation—limited by an inventor's scope."

"Didn't you used to hate your father?"

"Still do, in some respects..." Cyborg leaned back and shrugged. "But...better nao than never to clean out those old wounds. I mean...really..." He stared off depressingly into the lengths of the laboratory, distant. "...what is there left to lose at this point?"

She took a deep breath. She leaned forward. "For someone who has experienced so much tragedy and loss—It's amazing that you come out of it anywhere near optimistic, Victor. One can't blame you for feeling a bit cheated by fate—Especially when something like last night decides to rock your existential boat once again."

"..." He furrowed the human side of his brow and stared into her. "So...uh...in that light, what happened last night ain't s-so bad?"

"No. You're still a moron." She bluttered.

"_Nnngh!_ Yeah. _Okay_." Cyborg reeled in his chair. "Is that what you came here to do, girl? Stab me deeply—As I most deserve it?"

"No..." She smiled and leaned back. "I thought I'd get back in touch with you for the first time since that adventure three and a half weeks ago, hear what you have to say about this exciting new team you're forming, perhaps share some tea and lemons, and _**then**_ go about stabbing you deep in the gut."

"Dayum, girl. You're god's gift to robots, if I ever saw one."

"When I'm around, Vic, I always imagined you don't see anything else."

"Eh heh heh heh..." He scratched the back of his head, took a deep breath, and let his human and inhuman eyes both fall limply on her face. "So...uh...j-just hao _is _your father taking all of this?"

Madeline's fingers twiddled about the top of her walking stick as she leaned back, inhaled, and nodded towards the walls. "He's taking it well enough..."

"Whewwwww..."

"Well enough for a rich businessman who's had his first brush with death since the Great Hanshin Earthquake..." She adjusted the ends of her sleeves, smirking to herself. "Daddy always said I popped out of Mom's womb and landed smack dab into a fault line."

"Shh-_ssshhh_!" Cyborg winced, writhing his right hand as if struck with an adamantium bee-sting. "Dammit! I know it! Everything's over! My life! Stargirl's life! Robin's career! Raven's dead poet's society and Beast Boy's romantic dream!"

"I'd sympathize with you if I knew who half of those people were."

"I've met your father a load of times!" Cyborg stomped up to his feet and paced around, head twitching like a fried motherboard. "He takes everything so dayum seriously! I swear—God love the man—but whenever he manages a makeshift smile at charity functions, it positively looks like two little demon thugs are pulling the strings of his dimples from inside his own chompers!"

"Nao that's an interesting description I thought I could have lived without." Madeline tilted to face Cyborg's general direction and cleared her throat. "Vic. Listen to me—There's no need to panic-"

"No need to panic? Me, Robin, and the my half-dirty-dozen of would be kid-heroes treated your dad and his partners like a mound of Beanie-Babies going out to the landfill! I mean, we really went in there and _messed that shit up!_-You have no idea!"

"Yes..." Madeline nodded. "Yes, you did. But I'm sure it was all a great misunderstanding-"

"All well and fine for you to understand the misunderstanding that was understood to be misunderstood last night—Which _he wouldn't understand_!" Cyborg cackled, waving an arm about wildly. "You and your...your...tranquil _Madeline-ness—_Of course YOU understand! But not your father! Ohhhh n-noooo, Maddie! Not the great all-righteous Kensuke Kobayashi-San, riding in on a black stalion of vengeance with a legal katana aimed squarely at my nonexistent do-rag." He skipped a pacing step to saunter limply towards her and pointed once more. "Y-YOU remember the DO-RAG incident! Of course you do!"

"Heheheheheh..." Madeline shook her head. "Oh, please, Vic. Drop it already-"

"I ain't gonna drop it! Hell in a bottle, girl! What happened last night should positively _make up_ for what he put me through! Christmas of '03! The Westhaven Opera House! You were performing in the Orchestra for _The Nutcracker_. An hour after the show, by about the third serving of punch, he walks up and interrupts me in a conversation with Oliver Queen—_THE Oliver Queen—_and asks me if I'd be willing to showcase some new headgear for him as he starts breaking JCN Broadcasting into Jump City. So I ask him, very politely: 'What did you have in mind, Mr. Kobayashi-San'. And do you know what he said?"

"Snkkkt—Heheheh...Fine. Let it out."

"In broken English—He asks me, flat out, to model his new line of Do-Rags! Cuz only 'my people' would appreciate the product if I was to sport it on my half-robot head." Cyborg frowned, letting that sink in, then did a 'throw-down' with his fist. "Uh uh—I take that back! He said '_you people_'! Verbatim! And that's not the cherry on top! Nuh uh! They were _Hello Kitty_ do-rags! As if! Mother of tap-dancing-God! Can you believe your old man would do such a thing?"

"You're—snkkkt-forgetting the best part..." She giggled, incessantly.

"Oh yeah—and then—AND THEN—I lose my tempor, OF COURSE, and immediately spat back before Nancy could have the sober grace to stop me! I say to your old man: 'What do I look like? Some sort of fruity gangsta thug'! He takes one look at his translator, then back to me and says with a scrunched up face: 'What does John Cena have to do with it?'!"

"Hahahaha...Oh my lord..." Madeline cupped her forehead with a trembling hand. "If I had expected to laugh this hard when I came here, I would have brought a spitoon."

"Coulda used one for a white elephant gift that night in Westhaven—Girl, I tell you what..." Cyborg planted his hands on his hips, paced in a circle, and faced her once again with a nod. "Your old man. Heh...Kobayashi-san..." He clutched his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and let it back out in a shuddering, mute wail. "..._whom I'll be indebted to_ over and over again...whom I respect ten times over—as my father did..." He slumped back down into the seat beside Madeline, as if drained of all blood. And oil. "...who's running for mayor soon—and definitely has earned the key to Jump City four times as much as Powers dreams he could in a million lifetimes...whom I utterly _trampled_ last night like some horrible remake of West Side Story." He gulped and smiled in weak surrender towards his long-time friend. "Your father...who has every right to throw me into robot prison, probably forcing Skynet into its prophecied gag reflex one decade late...Heh...I'm sure it's all worth paying to see. What a thing to launch JCN Broadcasting's debut to."

"And I'm telling you, Victor..." She smiled and rested an angelic hand on his shoulder. "You should stop sweating. It's not as bad as it seems. He _understands_ that it was all a mistake. A superheroic blunder, yes—but nothing that's worth suing your team over, and ruining Jump City's first and perhaps only chance at having the level of protection the likes of which only Metropolis thus far has enjoyed."

"Hao..." Victor looked at her with bored, disbelieving eyes. "Hao..._Hao_ in God's square earth could he possibly look past the holocaust of last night?"

She folded her hands in her lap and sighed at him. Her head was cocked to the side. "Perhaps because a certain horse-riding, katana-wielding megolomaniac's daughter had a long talk with him, explained the logic of the situation—and soothed the savage beast before it could ever raise its ugly head from within his cholesterol-haunted heart."

"..." Cyborg blinked at her. "Y-You..." He tilted his head as if going sharply up a roller coaster. "Y-You mean to say that you-"

"The hook...I think..." She stroked her chin and gazed off into the twice-nothing, smirking. "...was when I told him that the key essential for being a good future mayor, would be to practice the fine art of humility. And in the case of what happened last night—the virtue most definitely applies. Especially when it concerns the integrity of not only the City—but its soon-to-be-solid protectors. I don't think they need any special introduction, do you?"

"..." Cyborg stared.

"...Victor?" Madeline briefly glanced to the left, then to the right. "Did you just run out of the room? Or am I going to have to reboot you again like that one night in January when you tried to integrate yourself with my Zune?"

"Maddie." He fiercely leaned forward, mouth perpendicular to her ear. "It's only the polite thing to warn you—I am about the hug the dayum _stuffings_ out of you, girl!"

"Uhhhm..." She bit her lip and shrunk her shoulders in, premeditatively wincing. "O-Okaaay?"

He squeezed her hard, positively lifting her halfway to the ceiling. "Nnnnnngh—Hahaha!" He plopped her back into the chair, knelt down like Prince Charming and grasped the gasping damsel's hands. "Madeline Kobayashi-chan, is it taboo in your family tradition for a walking toaster to make love to your fingertips?" He beamed.

"Uhhh...I dunno, I've never t-tried it..." She helplessly chuckled.

"Mmmmmm-MWA!" He all but slobbered over her right hand with a well-planted smooch. "You are truly a saint and a gentleman—er—in that you are a gentlewoman, but mostly the part!" He leapt up skyward. "Boo-Ya! Superheroes get to endure for another day! WOO! YEAH!"

"Calm down...Calm down...I may have talked Daddy into looking past what happened last night. I mean, all things considered—it could have been much worse."

"All things considered, I could have been laying myself down with my head rested in an electric stove by nao! HA! Get it?"

"Right—But there's something you must know, though I'm sure you could already predict it..." Madeline Kobayashi spoke with an air of warning, waving a finger. "When my father _looks past _things...it verily falls into suit that there is _something_ that he's looking _forward to_ receiving, past said incident."

"Ahem...Er..." Cyborg settled down to heaving knees. "S-Say what?"

"I told him, Victor..." She calmly uttered. "I told him that you would be willing to meet with him, in person."

"You did?" Cyborg blinked. "I am?"

"Mmmmhmmmm," she nodded. "And you can bet your metal nose he's going to ask for something in recompense for all this."

"My nose is only _half_ metal."

"Not after you do something foolish like refuse my father's request."

"..." Cyborg stared, silently. He eventually gulped, nodded, stood straight, and throated: "Okay..." Another nod, fervent. "Okay, yeah. Sure. Okay." He smiled and shook his head. "Maddie, you have no idea just hao much this team I'm forming means to me—and to almost have it snuffed out in a momentary lapse of reason—_with or without Gilmour on guitar!_ I'm willing to do _anything_ that your father asks! If only to keep the team together—To give them something to hope for! To give this whole dayum City something to hope for!"

Madeline nearly choked on her own words. "Even the Do-Rag..."

"Especially the Do-Rag!" Cyborg flew once more down to his knees and grasped her arm. He spoke to her giggling face. "Barbed-Wire decal, palm fronds, marijuana leaves, Hello Kitty designs—Hell-I'll even wear a Disney Princess do-rag! I'm sure there's a fetish for there somewhere! Jump City's market is BOOMING!"

"Heheheh—I don't think he'll ask for anything _that atrocious_. If there's one thing you and my father have in common, it's that you're both men who know hao to learn from mistakes. It's something I hope to emulate, myself."

"Did I mention that you're a saint?"

"**Emphatically**." She patted his metal wrist. "But if you grip my arm any tighter, I'm gonna become a _martyr_."

He blushed and whisked his palm away. "Sorry. Lucky for you I'm not of the habitual Rock-Em Sock-Em breed."

"You better not be when my father comes to meet you."

"Did...Uh...Did he say when that'll be?"

"I figure that would be up to you, Nancy, and him to figure out between the three of you. But if I know him, he's a man of potential humility—but not so much potential patience. I wouldn't delay for more than two days."

"Gotcha. Expediency is the name of the game! I wasn't doing anything anyways!"

"Not even with your own team?"

Cyborg's mouth opened...but he lingered. A dwindling smile, and he exhaled calmly into a self-contained sigh. "Even if we were successful tonight, Maddie—And the ambush went off without a hitch, and we had exposed the Underworld in all its ugly glory—I shudder to think if that would truly, _truly_ have an impact on hao our team is doing."

"And just hao is your team doing?"

"It isn't...At least, not the way I had intended. You see—weeks ago—when you, me, and Robin got together. We _gelled_. I mean, we were like the frickin' Triforce of hormonal badassery! I can't even begin to imagine where Stone Industries would be without your input when I most needed it..." He smiled. "Then as well as nao."

"The time we spent working together was positively invigorating, Vic. And Robin's a true gem. You don't know hao lucky you are to have him on the team."

"I only wish he was half as lucky to _be_ **on** the team..." Victor murmured.

"Is it really _that grim_, Victor?"

Cyborg rubbed the human half of his head. "Let's just say, Maddie, if you could actually see me right nao, you would have sworn I lost weight."

"Worthy of a paradox, huh?"

"You don't know the half of it..." Cyborg rubbed his metal tummy, but then made a face. "Er...make that _the fourth of it_."

"You have an irresistible drive to defend the interests of this City, Vic. The _noble_ interests. That's hao I know you'll go far with this team, and that's hao I know that in no logical way would you simply just _let_ what happened last night happen-Unless you were truly, utterly thwarted by powers unknown."

Cyborg blinked. "Wh-Why? What have you h-heard?"

"I'm not _that_ inside of an insider, Vic..." Madeline stood up, stick and all, and stepped over to stand beside him. "I may be Kobayashi's daughter—but I don't know exactly what makes _everything_ in the corporation tick. But I do know when there's a sudden and inexplicable change in company protocols." Her pale brow furrowed. "My father just doesn't randomly take midnight trips across town to transport expensive studio equipment from one location to another. There had to have been a hitch—an extreme spark plug jolt to his sensabilities to make him do what he did—regardless of what you and your team may have anticipated on Fifth Street last night."

"I..." Cyborg blinked confusedly at her. "I-I don't quite read you. Are you meaning to infer that...?"

"Someone from within Kobayashi Incorporated triggered the midnight exodus. My father was made to believe that there was a mandatory, unannounced systems check by a national broadcasting union the following day at the current Kobayashi Studios. Whether or not it's true, one thing's for sure—the event was triggered, and triggered deliberately—and my father was none the wiser about it. As a matter of fact, nobody was."

Cyborg nodded, adding: "The only people _in the know_ were whoever gave the go-ahead for Kobayashi Incorporated to make the exodus overnight."

"Exactly."

"But who?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm dying to find out. Hence, the real reason I came here alone..."

"I figured as much. You brought the stick. What—No chaperones?"

"Unless Sherry, my chauffer, counts," Madeline smiled mischievously.

"Wait." Cyborg squinted. "Does you father even _know_ that you're **here** right nao?"

"Oh, Victor. Victor, Victor..." She gently placed a hand on his shoulder and smirked his way. "When will you ever realize? My father doesn't ever know _anything_."

"..." Cyborg smirked. "What is it that you want?"

"Simply to help you get to the bottom of this mystery. Cuz nao that it's affected Kobayashi Inc this much, it's my mystery too."

"Well, alright!"

"The suspects whose contraband you allegedly took the radiation signature of, you wouldn't happen to have simultaneously conducted a sonic scan of them?"

"Close. We did a sonic scan of a meeting room that Raven and Stargirl listened in on."

"Sounds delightful. You wouldn't happen to still have that tactile graphic screen lying around in a dusty pile like always?"

"Ermmm..."

"You know, the sexy one."

"Oh—the one using an electrorheological fluidic membrane?"

"Right! The sexy one!"

"Coming right up. Take a seat."

"I never run out of them..."

"One thing's for sure..." Cyborg remarked, bubbily, as he paced to the far side of the room and started rummaging through various output devices and computer hardware. "With your father willing to talk—that only leaves me with one huge thing to worry about."

"Oh yes?"

"JCN Broadcasting. I was absolutely sure they would tear my team to shreds! I'm still a bit freaked out about it!"

"Oh, Vic. My father may be eccentric, but he's got class." She smiled his way. "He's not one to endorse slander or unnecessary pedantics."

"Heh, I guess that's true..."

"I mean, what's the worse that could happen?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_Shocking footage! Taken from just last night in front of St. Faustina Chapel, as half of the Jump City Police Department arrived on scene to find Multi-Billionaire Kensuke Kobayashi under attack from Victor "Cyborg" Stone and his team of shady vigilantes, including none other than the runaway sidekick from Gotham, Robin the Boy Wonder himself! We'll have the details on this shocking and unprovoked attack on the potential candidate for mayoral election of Jump City, right after this break. I'm Merilyn Chen—and this is the News at Noon!"_


	3. A Full Rich Day

"_Welcome back to JCN Broadcasting's News at Noon. I'm Merilyn Chen._

"_Commuters taking Fifth Street west through Old Downtown Jump City this morning would have been surprised to find city workers blocking their path, working around the clock to clean up the shattered remains of five company vehicles belonging to none other than Kensuke Kobayashi, resident Jump City philanthropist and world-renown billionaire. According to police reports given at the very same scene nearly fourteen hours previous, it would appear that Kobayashi's shipment of recording equipment—bound for this very broadcast station—was subject to a sudden, bizarre, and brutal ambush on behalf of Victor "Cyborg" Stone and his new team of self-proclaimed teenaged superheroes. What's even more shocking than the unexpected severity of this attack was that Mr. Kobayashi himself was located at the scene, and bore personal testimony to the metahuman sting operation commited on him and his workmen on behalf of the ambitious heir to Jump City's oldest corporation, Stone Industries._

"_At about three o'clock in the morning, Kobayashi's convoy of five vehicles took off from the company's shipyard storage facility on Twentieth and Brevard. By the time they reached the location of St Faustina Chapel at three twenty-two, witnesses say the attack began. Victor 'Cyborg' Stone and his teammates leapt from the rooftops and proceeded to forcefully halt the caravan in the middle of the road. During the process, two vehicles were damaged beyond repair, and at least five company workers were mildly injured, including one man with cracked ribs and a concussion. Kobayashi himself was not reported to have been injured at the scene, and the estimated damage to the City Street and sidewalks is estimated at over ninety thousand dollars."_

"_Kobayashi has not been publically charged with committing any crimes warranting a police investigation—and it is a matter of fact that Stone Industries' new vigilante team is not officially connected with the Jump City Police Force in any written fashion. Though Kobayashi has yet to make a public statement concerning the event, his agents have stated that there was no further investigation on the part of Stone's team to excuse the validity of the midnight attack. Nor have the police stepped up to charge the owner of Kobayashi Incorporated with any crime._

_"When briefly interviewd, Commissioner Erin Kneehouse of the JCPD did have this to say about the whole event:_

_'This was more than a mistake in judgment, it was an embarrassment. If Victor Stone had intended to show Jump City that he and his new team of super powered kids could do a world of good for this City, then he's thrown his campaign quite a few leagues backwards. I want the public to know that I have, in fact, spoken directly with Victor Stone. He knows very well where the law stands in this issue—and who it is that truly wields authority in protecting this City. You have my word, as a law enforcer and a fellow citizen—that I will not stand for this sort of absurdity, and will do everything in my power to prevent it from potentially happening to more innocent people in the future.'_

"_Victor Stone was not available for an interview. Nor was Mr. Kobayashi, who to this hour has yet to officially announced any intent on pressing charges against Stone Industries or any of its representatives. In a written statement delivered to JCN Broadcasting, Stone Industries' Executive Chairperson Nancy P. Drew states, quote:_

_'We are doing everything within our power to assure the continual, prosperous relationship between our corporation and that of Kobayashi Inc. Kensuke Kobayashi is a man of great distinction and integrity, and it is not the function nor intent of Stone Industries to seek a way to blemish, harm, or challenge his resources in any way.'_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_We'll have more on this breaking development, as well as the weather and sports report—immediately following 'The Gloves Are Off: The Blake Glover Minute'. Right after this. Stay tuned-"_

_**-BLIP-**_

The television suspended in the top corner of the hospital room died. The nurse removed her finger from the dial and turned about to check once more on the patient.

A teenaged girl, tan skinned with long chestnut brown hair, slept soundly, a myriad of wires connected to her upper arm and shoulder. Her head rested deep into the pillow, serene, still as a statue. Her calm face—dimpled, made for grinning—was blemished in a few spots by lasting bruises. Silently, the girl slumbered, the girl recovered, lulled to unending subconscious by the hypnotic beap of an EKG machine standing next to her, along with an IV stand. A drug release button dangled at the end of a cord across her sheeted waste. Her hand seemed a mile away from it.

The nurse examined the EKG machine, tidied up about the room, and made a few notes on a clipboard before eventually shuffling out of the dimly lit quarters and into the muted shuffle of the fourth story recovery department just beyond the closing door.

The girl was alone, suspended in the sweet solace of silence. Just outside her partially curtained window, a forest of spring leaves waved and danced in the afternoon air. And beyond that—hovering at the same level across the street...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"..." Raven levitated in place, her back to the side of an old, dusty hotel building. With cold, melting eyes she stared across the sunlit street at the Jump City Western Hospital—particularly at the fourth floor—even more particularly at one window.

And the quiet sleeper beyond...

The sorceress took a deep, sad breath. Averting her eyes—like one painfully peels a bandage off a fresh wound—Raven turned about, flicked a wrist, and opened a portal into the naked wall of the nearest building. She walked through the purplish vortex—which promptly vanished with a quiet implosion of the girl's soul self.

**Flash!**

And she was gone.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

A clattering of freckled fingers against keyboard. A young, strawberry haired man in a labcoat swiveled about in a chair, gave a neckbearded grin, and nodded his bespectacled face. "Fire it up again."

Across the First Floor testing gallery of Phaser Labs, Stargirl nodded back. "Okay then." The girl in red-white-and-blue twirled the Cosmic Rod up, aimed it horizontally, and fired a condensed yellow beam at a metal cylinder at the end of a long concrete corridor.

_**Zaaaaaaaaap!**_ The cylinder heated up, formed steam, and burst into flames. **_Fwoomb!_**

"Yowsers!" The young scientist adjusted his thin framed glasses and chuckled. "There she blows!"

"Eh..." Courtney shrugged and leaned on the Cosmic Rod nonchalantly. "I've seen her 'blow' harder." A blink. She bracedly bit her lip, blushing. "Erm...th-that didn't come out the way I meant it to..."

"Heh, no sweat," Dr. Ray swiveled back to his computer and plunked away some more, collecting data and inputing it into a digital spreadsheet. "If you were expecting fireworks, I'm sorry to disappoint you. We're trying to find thermal _conductors_ to your Cosmic Rod's energy beams. Not flammable materials." He grabbed a nearby clipboard and flicked forth furious check-marks across the first sheet with a ball point pen. "You'll be happy to know that we've added Molybdenum to that list."

"So if I stumble upon a thug who's coming at me with a machete made out of...pure _Molybdenum_..." Stargirl winced at her own words.

"-you could zap it and make it hot so that he'd drop it out of his hands." The man smirked a happy moon at her. "Do I get extra credit for thinking like a superhero?"

"If 'thinking like a superhero' means begging for an impossible situation to happen, then sure." Courtney stared down the gallery as the cylinder hissed, hissed, and eventually cooled. "Stick to chemistry and astrophysics, Dr. Ray. It suits you better."

"What? Can't a nerd with a Masters Degree daydream?" Ray shrugged, stood up from his chair and flung his long ponytail over to the other shoulder as he shuffled across the way to another seemingly unimportant computer wall console and plunked away at some more keys. "This is the closest thing a dude like me can get to a front row seat to crime fighting! I always envied Dr. Hamilton in Metropolis for being able to work with the Boy Scout in Blue himself. So forgive me if I'm a little _overtly enthusiastic_ over helping you and the others run these tests."

"Being able to do crazy things in costumes isn't always a tip through the tulips, Professor." Stargirl murmured from under her mask. When he wasn't looking, her eyes sadly hovered around some obscure shadow in the ceiling. "...sometimes you find yourself flinging the beam of light at the wrong people."

"If you're talking about whatever happened last night with Kobayashi..." Dr. Ray plunked away at the console. The hot cylinder across the way descended and a new cylinder made of a shiny blue substance emerged in its place. "...I'm sure the whole thing will work out just fine."

"I'd gladly share your optimism, Professor..." Stargirl gave him an incredulous look as she leaned on the rod. "If I was absolutely sure it wasn't just a well-to-do bias on your part."

He turned and grinned at her. "If you can't accept the faith of nerdy workaholic who works in a fifty million dollar concrete basement, than just what kind of support _can_ you wish for?"

"Eh heh heh heh..." Stargirl lightly chuckled, then narrowed her eyes. "Gimme something else to shoot already."

Ray motioned down the long gallery. "Shoot away, ma'am!"

Stargirl twirled the cosmic rod and aimed it at the cylinder, squinting hard. "Just what am I zapping this time?"

"Duranium Alloy. I discovered the mixture myself by combining two alien compounds salvaged from some of the crashed ships leftover by the Apokolipton Invasion years ago." He winked with pride. "Named it after the stuff used by one of my favorite Star Trek aliens."

"Will it go kersplodey?"

"Uh uh, ma'am. Sorry. No kersplodey."

"Awww..." Courtney pouted, but then grinned. "Well, here's looking at you-" She glowed the hot end of the Cosmic Rod and targeted the base of the distant tower of metal—only for the target to suddenly turn into a not-so-distant tower of green skin with pointed ears:

"H-Hey, Spangle! You have any idea where the phone book is in this god forsaken mosoleum—WAAAAIIEE!" Beast Boy flinched and shrunk into a cowering turtle.

"DAH!" Ray bit onto his clipboard.

"ACKIES!" Courtney averted the Cosmic Rod upwards at the last second—_**KAP-POWWW!**_ The golden burst ricocheted off the ceiling, pinballed off two concrete support struts, bounce off the open doors to the underground Bunker, and finally landed a frothily burning inch away from nearly piercing the metamorph's quivering shell. **_PFFTT!_**

_Clank! _ She leaned against the rod like it was a flagpole and panted, panted, panted. A toss of her blonde bangs out of her masked face and she scowled down at the rattling green reptile. "Beast Boy, I nearly made you a Beast Barbecue!"

"Whew!" The turtle sprawled into a wincing elf across the floor, rubbing huzz aching fuzzy skull. "At least I have the luxury of knowing my eulogy could very easily have been capped off with a lame pun!"

"This is rather serious, Mr. Logan." Dr. Ray walked over and helped the elf up by the hand. "I know you're a darn resilient little shape shifter-"

"Little?" The elf blinked.

"-but a blast from the Star Spangled Kid's Cosmic Rod has been proven today to incinerate at least three of the complex heavy metals I've forged for our tests today."

"Uhm...With annotations, please?" Beast Boy blinked.

"You coulda gone _Kersplodey!"_ Stargirl shrieked at him. "Gawd! _See_ the _line_?"

"I see plenty of lines when I'm around you-" _WHAP!_ "Owie!"

"No, THAT, silly head!" Courtney lowered her glove from his head and pointed down at the red barrier extending before the gallery. "Don't step in front of it! ESPECIALLY when we're testing stuff! We could have blown your furry head clean off!" She pouted. A blink. Her masked eyes narrowed: _"And just what **lines** are you talking about?"_

"Eh heh heh heh...Sorry I brought it up." Beast Boy stammered aloud. "Seriously, we got a phone book somewhere?"

"To be honest..." Dr. Ray suddenly smiled with an awkward nervousness. The twenty-five year old scratched his scraggy neckbeard. "...I'm not entirely sure."

"Besides, who uses a phone book anymore?" Stargirl smirked at Garfield. "Gonna take up _driving_ finally?"

"Yeah." He folded his arms and frowned. "I thought I might carpool you t_o the dentist_ and have them install the **Suez Canal** into your mouth."

"Hardy har. But seriously, Gar...?"

"Well, I don't really mean to make a show of things, but-" He stopped in mid-sentence, slowly glanced over Dr. Ray's way, and sweatdropped. "Eh heh...No offense or anything, Doc Brown, but you think I could discuss this privately with those with less five o'clock shadows and more ovaries?"

"I fail to see hao you fall into either of those categories yourself, but I reckon I don't mind." Ray shrugged, saluted, and marched off towards the far side of the laboratory. "I got data to analyze. Data just doesn't analyze itself, yanno. Nosiree bob..." His voice dwindled away along with the aura of his strawberry ponytail.

Beast Boy scratched his head in awe. "Only twenty Einstein-level geniuses left alive in this cockeyed world and we get the one physicist that actually says '_I reckon_'."

"He's kinda handsome," Courtney shrugged, glancing over as she rested the rod across her shoulders and hung her arms from it. "In a Peyton Manning marries Chewbacca kind of way."

"Yeah. Thanks a lot." Beast Boy rubbed his clenched eyelids and muttered. "Anyways, I don't think it's a big deal or wutnot-"

"What's not a big deal?"

He looked up at her. "-remember the thing on my butt?"

"..." Stargirl looked over at him. She blinked. "...You came up from the Bunker and interrupted our tests to talk to me about your _butt_?"

"Well, it made for such riveting conversation this morning!"

"The only thing riveting was my aching sides from trying to contain my laughter."

"You were gonna laugh at me?"

"Why else do you think I hit the showers so soon?"

"Come on! This is important and stuff!"

"Beast Boy, if your butt was _anything important_, they'd be spending time on the news talking about that and not our run-in with Kobayashi last night."

"I never thought that hard about it—But you and Raven were right. The birthmark—my birthmark—it's not always the same."

"Well, that's nice to know..." Stargirl smiled sickly. "Care to take me out to lunch so we can discuss your navel lint as well?" She made to walk away-

"I mean it!" Beast Boy tugged at the rod, anchoring her shoulders in place. "I'm freaked out! Like Kurt Cobain realizing he's going steady with Courtney Love _freaked out_! Everytime I turn into a different kind of animal and come back—it's an entirely different shape!...The birthmark that is. Me, I'm still in the same handsome mold I've always been in."

"That's all very interesting, Beast Boy..." Stargirl leaned forward with a sincere furrow of her masked brow. "But don'tcha think that this is the kind of stuff you bring to the attention of a doctor—and not a girl who very much would like to think about anything _but_ posterior beauty marks this early in the afternoon?"

"That's what I'm looking for a phonebook for. Or a computer directory of the local area or something. I'm still new to Jump City, yanno, just like you! I wonder if there're any good doctors around?"

"Beast Boy..."

"And I don't mean the cheap walk-in-from-the-street-and-see-me-cuz-I-stupidly-nailed-this-spark-plug-through-my-pancreas kind of doctors. Yeesh! It's my own fault, yanno! I've long spoiled myself since my days of childhood acting. Why, on the set of Warp Trek, I was afforded ten orthodontists! One for each toe!"

Stargirl cocked her head to the side and gave him a sly look. "Garfield..." She licked her metal-laced teeth for emphasis and smilingly said; "Orthodontists are _dentists!_ _Podiatrists_ are foot doctors."

He blinked up at her. "No wonder I kept putting my foot in my mouth when arguing with my agent."

Courtney giggled. "Beast Boy, I hope you do know that we have our own private physician!"

"..." The elf gazed. "Private physician? Since when?"

"Since always—And when I say always, I mean three weeks ago when we all started this whole charade." She paced over to a nearby concrete wall and leaned against it, rod to her side. _Clank._ "He's worked with Cyborg all his teenage life—Helped Vic go through all his physical therapy and stuff. If he could help someone like Victor learn to walk with half his limbs missing, then I'm pretty sure he can take a look at your...er...better half..."

"When you say he's a private physician..." Beast Boy squinted suspiciously at her. "...you don't mean to say he's only good at looking at _privates_?"

"Only if you need him to."

"Brrr—Yeah, no. I don't need a physical, just a good Sherlocking over this birthmark I've had for as long as I could remember."

"Why the sudden concern? I'm sure you're fine!" Courtney shifted the weight to her good foot and gestured at him. "Heck, my left shoulder is double-jointed. You don't see me writing a will over it."

"But what if I've got the death's head on me or something?" Beast Boy rubbed his tailbone and turned a greenish pale, gulping. "Wh-What if I've got what killed Tenessee Williams?"

"Uhhh...didn't he, like, choke on a bottle cap?"

"If I have something terminal, I'd start drinking as well!"

Stargirl rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, Beast Boy, I've got things to do."

"Forgive me, Courtney. Just...yanno..." He dug the toe of his boot into the ground and shrugged limply. "With Cyborg off sweating a storm with his business partners, Robin doing his brooding detective thang, Raven and Starfire doing the Michael Jackson emowalk across town and you doing tests with Yetti McMuppetHair—I find hanging around this '_luxurious'_ HQ of ours like waiting in a tomb for a Sunday morning that'll never come." The elf sighed. He boredly looked at her. "And before you summon the courage to ask me the meaning of that entire sentence, lemme tell you, save your breath. I've got no clue anymore."

"I think I understand you perfectly, Gar..." Courtney said in a soft voice, gazing into the floor. Her face, stone immaculate. "This...isn't exactly what I expected, or _wanted_. If I had known I would leave Nebraska only to experience a bunch of days cooped up in a huge basement, almost too afraid to poke my head out or else be made fun of by the people we're supposed to be here to be helping out...Well...I dunno _what I would have done_." She glanced up. "Long story short, you're not alone. Sitting around here, swallowed up in stone, your mind gets the better of you. I like to have patience. Hope for the best. Do my homework and try not to make anyone innocent go _kersplodey_...heheh..."

"I just...I just think we should be able to talk to each other about these pathetically pathetic things..." He smiled crookedly. "Without being afraid of looking silly. I mean...I-I didn't just join this team cuz I was bored of aiming prop phasers at actors with peanut butter on their heads! I want you guys to be my _friends_, yanno. And I wanna be _your friend_ too..."

"..." She smiled at him. "Fine." She leaned forward. "The next time you wanna come to me and talk about your butt, I'll try to be a little bit more understanding."

"Jee, thanks..." He rolled his eyes, but chuckled.

She playfully 'bopped' him on the shoulder with the rod and started to walk off. "I gotta jet, Gar. Dr. Ray's gonna need his quota filled in the next hour or two."

"Uhm..." Beast Boy nervously adjusted his collar. "Call me an idiot..."

"What for, idiot?"

He stuck his tongue out. "But...this doctor of ours."

"Yeah?"

"...does he have a name?"

"You ever watch reruns of M*A*S*H?"

"...huh?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Jump City's Northern District.

A rickety, rusting, elevated train track rattled over the bricklaid bodies of several dozen delapidated apartments. Pothole'd streets twisted through dark alleyways and seedy detours to form a cancerous network of filth and decay. The few beat-up cars brave enough to venture through this side of town did so slowly, driving a good three-to-four feet from the sidewalks, where sparse clusters of Central City Gang members wandered in burly formations, laughing the afternoon up and barking at anyone in sight who even _remotely_ looked like an outsider to that crumbling side of the neighborhood.

A little further east, the L-Track grew higher, forming an urban umbrella over several blocks of the town where the most populated tenements were. It was a little safer here—with the meatier and grizzlier gangs forming protective haloes around families, and not drug stops. People young and old spent long gasps of the sunkissed afternoon slouched over on apartment stoops, cooled by the segmented shadows of the elevated railroad above them. Childred screeched and played on a splotch of sidewalk—while across the way a cluster of bruised teens murmured amongst themselves, momentarily glancing back and forth to check on the residents and then scan the urban horizon for rival gangs.

In the eastmost branch of the Northern District, the Bazaar began—a shameless, open, naked flea market erected under a winding curve in the railtrack overhead. No single square inch of open street was sacred—all four lanes were occupied with plywood table after plastic stand after metal bench full of knick knacks, electrical bric-a-brac, household appliances, roughly sewn garments, mechanical intestines, artistic experiments, and thrifted unmentionables. Here, it was only occasionally safe—with a random gunshot on any given day forcing the makeshift shopkeepers to sweep up their belongings in a single leap and run for cover. But, for the most part, the Bazaar was an everyday normality, serving as the cultural epicenter for a part of Town that was otherwise financially deprived.

Police patrols were remarkably seldom in this part of Jump City. Every other block or so, there would be a testament as to why—evidenced in the shredded remains of an aluminum body and blue-and-red glass, never swept clean, halo'd by months-old bulletholes. On a few telephone poles and lampposts, faded two-year-old fliers hung in partially laminated tatters—featuring a warning statement from the City Review Board and accompanied with an often vandalized likeness of a certain Commissioner Erin Kneehouse.

The air around the Northern District was bitter. But it was also confident. Through the grime and the breakdown, there was a great spirit of survivalism, punctuated by the occasional cacophony of random violence and the Hobbsean panic that ensued, but only for a deathly short breath in time.

What never settled in the air, though, was any pungnant scent of hope.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Robin:)**

**April 21st, 2004**

**Jump City Entry # 108**

"**Some have been so bold as to ask—perhaps out of a state of misguided whimsy—just why this town is named 'Jump City'. I can say, from having personally walked and climbed the purgatorial depths of it, that anybody who's anybody who's lived in the subterranean bowels of this hell that pretends to be heaven—these frightened and paranoid masses, filtering out from the Underworld, having a chance to look out upon that great bliss of oblivion that is the Atlantic, queerly enough follow the impulse to act upon their hometown's name.**

"**It's moments of realization like this when I tell myself that I am not just some shadow on the wall come here only to observe. Jump City's people live below and above a powder keg. Cyborg's team is just ready and waiting by the Sea, to catch them.**

"**I believe in Cyborg. I believe in his team. And I believe in purging the blight that has sprung forth from this confused city's roots. It may not be the reason why I came here, but it certainly is the reason why I've chosen to stay."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The wind kicked savagely at Robin's bangs. He calmly gazed down through his mask at gloved hands expertly linking two electronic devices together and plugging them into his miniature camera. A tiny LCD screen flickered a dozen long-ranged photographs taken of Fifth Street, JCN Broadcasting Studios, the Eastern Shipyards, and finally a Warehouse with the name 'Kobayashi' on it. The phographs shifted through different shades of color, and when the miniature slideshow finished repeating five times, a light went off on the conjoined devices, and the LCD screen displayed 'Analysis Complete'.

Robin's windblown eyemask narrowed. His jaw clenched in thought as he pressed a button and produced a miniature map of Jump City. The image then narrowed in on the Northern District and highlighted a tiny corner of an obscure city block in the warehousing district. Another flick of his gloved finger, and Robin brought fourth a tiny red crosshair that was slowly, ever so _slowly_ approaching the location of the highlighted corner.

"**This is my second entry of the day. I'm rather surprised at myself. The last time I recounted my investigations this densely was three months ago when I just started infiltrating Powers Incorporated's Special Sciences Division. It's funny that I should mention that again, of all things, for I had always considered that entire chapter closed as of three weeks ago—when Cyborg and I finally combined forces. But the closer I follow this new trail of bread crumbs, the wider I must broaden my perspective. I guess it's all exciting me more than I had realized—I'm feeling positively poetic. Nightwing might curl over in laughter at all this. I would hope for no less.**

"**The radiation signatures are definitely alien in background—Gordanian, just as Cyborg suspected. After dealing first-hand with the technology back when this whole 'Jump City' escapade finally got interesting, Victor made note to record the atomic degrade of the materials salvaged from the wreck in the Bay. He discovered that—along with low level doses of radiation-the technology gave off a photonic emission capable of being captured through spectral analysis. His theory was that the Gordanians programmed all of their toys to lose their juice as soon as the core of the localized Mothership went kaput. It made perfect sense to me, and so it was no problem—even today—to find the Gordanian fingerprints all over the path of the caravan we had ambushed last night.**

"**There's no doubt about it; Kobayashi's entourage was positively blanketed with everybody's favorite Gordanian effluence. But this, of course, doesn't _exactly _add up—we found no alien technology in the back of the billionaire's delivery trucks. Naturally, my first postulate was the simplest one, though hardly pleasant: Perhaps Kobayashi _was_ transporting alien goods, only to dump it prematurely and allow us to capture him red-handed...but without red-hands, embarassing ourselves and letting him go scott free for a crime he indeed committed. But then that wouldn't click well with the tip-off we got from the conversation between gang members that Raven and Stargirl directly recorded a few days previous.**

"**So, I returned to the initial hypothesis; that Kobayashi's entourage had been polluted purposefully with a dose of Gordanian radiation in an attempt to either frame him, hurt us, or both. As I followed the radiation trail and conducted my spectral analysis, things started to make more and more sense. The radiation signatures were actually growing _stronger_ the closer I got to Kobayashi's warehouse in the Shipyards where he purportedly gathered the recording equipment to deliver west across Jump City to JCN Studios. And then, heading west, there was a hitherto undiscovered trail of radiation leading towards the Northern District—and it was growing _fainter_.**

"**By nao, I am willing to bet that someone or some people brought a piece of Gordanian technology _to_ the shipyards from an undisclosed location in the Northern District. Once at the shipyards, they staked Kobayashi and his men out, discharged a burst of the alien tech's energy, and doused the caravan in radiation right before it made its trip west along Fifth Street. Even after our team's ambush, the radiation signature remained, growing even fainter, until the cargo reached JCN studios and burnt out completely. None of it has been dangerous enough to infect any humans, and its rate of dissipation hasn't exactly matched the potent degree of energy Cyborg and the rest of Phaser Labs originally sampled from the Bay's wreckage.**

"**In short, someone had to have crafted a _manmade_ device to discharge the Gordanian energy, simulating its radiation signature but not recreating its true longevity. So, in that same vein, somebody somewhere in this City may indeed have an unknown quantity of smuggled alien technology in their possession, and they used the opportunity last night to get the only superheroes in town so deeply entangled in a public relations nightmare that the actual vault of stolen extraterrestrial goods would not be remotely searched for to begin with.**

"**But, in attempting to open up a whole new can of worms, our nameless foes have actually created a paper trail leading directly to them, the very same paper trail I am following right nao. And Oracle says my paranoia only serves to confuse me...**

"**Still, the question remains: Even if all of this was indeed a setup, and Kobayashi's caravan was purposefully tagged with a false radiation signal to draw our ambush—Why was it that the gangs' convoy never went out and, through astronomical improbability, Kobayashi's entourage took its place on the dot? It's a very good question—but I'm not Superman; my hands are full enough as it is. Cyborg can find answers to the other half of this mystery I'm sure, if he's not busy lounging around someplace with his arms elbow-deep into a half-built car, trying to forget he was ever born...twice.**

"**Right nao, I've discovered the path to the radiation polluters' point of origin. I must go there before the trail goes away—or worse—the trail makers. Though, I fear, I am already too late. That's okay. It only teaches me to work faster, harder."**

Robin continued gazing at the LCD screen. A gust of wind nearly knocked the device out of his hand, but he gripped it harder, eyeing the red crosshair as it got closer to the highlighted city block on the tiny map. When he was but a sneeze away from the destination, he clicked the device off, split it in half, and slid the halves away into their respective pockets—along with the camera.

Hair blowing in the wind, Robin stood up—shifting his knees a bit to keep his balance on the aluminum rooftop. Beneath him, a subway train roared and rattled as it finished rounding the bent curve in the Northern District's Elevated Track. The metal wheels squealed and sparked along the western straightaway.

Robin's eyemask narrowed. He could see the destination in question coming up below him—a one story warehouse with windows boarded up, flanked by a courtyard overgrown with brown grass and vines. There was a garage, its door falling off its hinges, and in front of it there were wet tire tracks marking the miniature driveway.

This was his stop.

_Snkkkt!_ The Boy Wonder's bo-staff extended in his grasp. He raised a hand, flicked his wrist, and produced a tiny electrical node from his glove. He swatted the edge of his cape just over his shoulder. _**Bzzzt!**_ A tiny blue spark shot into the polymerized titanium of the fabric, and the material suddenly stretched wide behind him like an airfoil. _Fwooomp!_ Robin then crouched, tightened his muscles, and just when he was within a blink's distance...

...he jumped up, glided down like a missile, and landed boots-first through the first boarded window in sight.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**CRASSSH!**_

Robin landed in a circular halo of sunlight, forced upon the dirty floor of the otherwise pitch-black interior. Wood and splinters littered the concrete around him in slow motion as he exhaled, flinched every muscle in his crouching body, and shot up with a fan of birdarangs slicing the dust-ridden air.

_Chiiiing!_

A body—splayed ten feet in front of Robin on a sea of cardboard—hopped panickedly to his feet, a gray beard shimmering in the sudden penumbra of afternoon light. "Wh-Whoah! Hey! B-Back off, sky pilgrim! Snkkkt—I-I got a club, ya dayum crackhead! I found this place first! Hrngnngh!"

"..." Robin's eyemask narrowed on the homeless elder. "Hrm..." He scanned the interior of the warehouse left and right. It was barren—no single piece of furniture or appliance to be found. But it wasn't always like that. He saw scuff marks on the ground. Wheel trails, four different sets of bootprints breaking the otherwise undisturbed sea of dust. "Damn."

He was too late.

"Didja hear me?" The bearded hobo quivered and shook a tattered glove in a fist. "I'll break your jawbone if ya don't leave! I call this roof! Ngnnhg!"

"Call it whatever you want..." Robin murmured aloud, ignoring the man as he sauntered about, scanning more and more of the floorspace. He saw a rectangular patch of disturbed dust—where several wooden crates were once positioned. The were pairs of deep impressions left in key spots of the concrete—suggesting a forklift having sloppily dropped extraordinarily heavy bundles of equipment in one spot, two spots, four. The Boy Wonder took his camera out and snapped it a few times, adding to his collection of spectral analyses.

"H-Hey...You...Why in the holy hell are you dressed up like that, sky pilgrim?" The hobo blinked his offset eyes, waving invisible flies away from his skull. "There a gay pride parade in town I dun know about?"

"Hao did you get inside here?" Robin turned icily towards him. "The windows are boarded up. The garage is sealed."

"Trade secret, ya bum!" The man spat. He Quasimodo'd a few shuffling steps towards the Boy Wonder and hissed: "I'd put this place under lock and key if I could afford it, yanno! Ain't none of your business!" His sour breath smelled of burning distilleries. "You stupid kids and your stupid kidney dialysis machines that play music—You're just like the rest of them!"

"You don't say..." Robin traced the wall to the garage door, examining its corners, his back to the man.

"I do! Ffnnngh—I was a veteran, you know! Fought for dis country in 'Nam! Hrnngh—But does that earn any respect these days? Nuh uh! I stormed the beaches of Okinawa for your lazy cheeks, sky pilgrim!"

"Okinawa is in Japan, not Vietnam."

"Well, I don't read National Geographic, _damn your eyes!_ Hrnnnngh! Lost half my sight from a gas grenade right as we pulled out of Grenada!"

"Look...at least tell me this..." Robin turned over towards the man. "Hao long were you staking this place out before the previous people in here left?"

"I done told you! This is my place! MINE! It doesn't belong to _those men_ anymore-"

Robin pointed his gloved finger at the man and smirked knowingly.

"..." The hobo exhaled the ghost from his lungs, slumping in the sudden spotlight. "Alright..._So there were about a dozen of 'em._ They were in an awful hurry to get outta here." A sudden flair in his beard as he growled: "But dun you go runnin' to tell them, sky pilgrim! Hrnngh—They left and will STAY gone, by Zeus! And I ain't wanting them coming back on account of yer yapping!"

"Did you see what they looked like?"

"What's it to ya?" The hobo regally adjusted the tattered jacket on his torso and eyed Robin in a miserly manner. "Information isn't _free_ where **you** come from, I bet."

"Oh?"

"That's a mighty warm lookin' cape ya got there, Sky pilgrim."

"You think that's smart, you should see my taser."

"AHEM..." The hobo adjusted his collar and smiled nervously. "Eheheheh-They was wearing some black silk things...really fine...like out of a Bruce Lee movie. Chinese getup."

"Chinese or Japanese?" Robin raised an eyebrow.

"Hrhhhgnn-Hao the Hell should I know?"

"I thought you invaded Okinawa riding an elephant."

"Don't make fun of your elders!" Mr. Beard cackled. "I done told you all I know! Fancy silks, dark hair, Godzilla talk—I got hungry for noodles just smelling them!"

Robin sighed and turned to leave. "Thanks. You've been very informative." His voice trailed in a boneless monotone.

"Except for one guy..." The hobo scratched his temple.

The Boy Wonder stopped in his tracks, then glanced over his shoulder.

"Hrnnngh...Mmm-Yes...Dark Skinned Feller. Only one that was speaking English the whole time. He had this shiny car, blue as the sky, and he looked like had fallen into a well full of coyotes, the poor sap. Hrnnngh..."

"Hao do you mean...?" Robin narrowed his eyemask.

"Bandaged from head to toe! Almost like the Mummy! Cast and crutches and everything—Heheheheh...You ever seen Abbot and Costello? Man, those were the days. Hnnngh—Almost a blessing during R&R from bombing Manila..."

"Was the man..._Huge_?" Robin asked.

"Hell yes! A hippopotamus among sea urchins! I was glad as Hell that he left the place along with the rest of the punks—He was liable to eat me! Brnnghh!"

Robin's left fist clenched. "Thank you. I'll leave you be."

"You never done told me your name, sky pilgrim."

"I think you got it just about right." Robin said. A beat. He looked once more at the man, then reached into the backside of his utility belt, pulling out three tiny wrapped packages and tossing them so that they slid to a comfortable stop before the man's holey boot.

"What're these animals? Hrnngh! Th-Them for me?"

"Rations. Plenty of protein. Should take care of you for three days—Maybe five, on your stomach."

"Pfftt!" The man shook. "Why not just gimme _moneh_ like the rest of dem?"

Robin climbed out the window. "No man can _eat _alcohol."

"Hey, _smartass_, **screw** you!"

"You're welcome." The Boy Wonder was gone.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

At Jump City Family Medical Clinic, a small but well-kept facility on the edge of Jump City's Southern Warehousing District and the Suburbs...

Various clusters of people hung about in a generically stale waiting room. Under a throng of random intercom pages, a pair of decade-old television sets broadcasting Spongbob, and the cold hearted buzz of a four foot long fish tank, various children squealed at their parents' sides, dreading upcoming booster shots, stethescopes, and tongue depressors. The parents did their best to ignore the larvae's plights by engulfing themselves in deep philosophical cell phone conversations about local department store discounts juxtaposed with the latest failed stimulus bill.

Somewhere in the corner of this miasma, unsuccessfully camouflaged in a none-too-flattering polo shirt and cargo pants combo, wanting very desperately instead to be in a bloody holocaustal warzone somewhere far, far away, there sat a timid and lip-biting Garfield Logan. The young man scratched at nonexistent mosquito bites, perhaps in a futile attempt to hide his obstinately green skin from the sight of the _normal_ Homo sapiens around him.

He shuddered from the loud "normality"—the squealing and the squawking and the overall listlessness of the huddling, affluent masses awaiting their physicals. Finally, he turned to something he had brought with him—a certain antique book with a red leather cover and odd runes.

"Phweeeee..." Garfield exhaled long and hard, squinting and turning the pages of the so-called 'Book of Razzar' over and over, lost in its enigmatic pages. "Save me from terminal boredom, Zoey. I know that's why you gave me this dang motha." But try as he may to squint or scrutinize, none of the symbols made any sense. He ultimately sighed in miserable defeat. "Nnnngh—Cultures exist that are as far and wide as entire solar systems, and yet white elephant gifts are universal." He slapped the book shut and slumped back in his seat. "..." His right pointed ear twitched. He slowly pivoted his head and gazed towards the seat next to him.

A seven year old girl hid her lower face behind an armrest, her body squatted sideways in the seat, wriggling.

"..." He looked away. A few beats of silence—and he glanced back.

She hid her face again. Eyes staring at him. Endlessly.

"..." He looked away again—_He looked back_.

"Eeep!" She was too late to conceal her face this time, but hid immediately regardless.

Beast Boy raised an eyebrow. He tried to ignore her. He tried—but could only manage to faux looking straight ahead, shifting about nervously in his own seat. This persisted for a few clumsy minutes, until the girl chirped up:

"Uhm..."

Beast Boy's eyes darted her way. His face curved like Jack Nicholson. "Yessssssssss?"

"Are you from Narnia?" She gaped.

Garfield blinked. He glanced over at a Hiltonesque blonde with a cell phone pretending to be the girl's chaperone two seats away. "Depends, kid." He leaned forward and muttered. "Does your mom ride a seven-headed beast out of Babylon?"

The girl blinked. "Babylon?"

Beast Boy smirked, opened his mouth to speak, saw the little girl's curious bright eyes, then bit his lip in a sudden nervousnes. "Erm..."

Just then, the intercom: _"Garfield Logan, your appointment with Doctor Hunnicutt is ready."_

"H-Hey! My time's up!" Garfield leapt out of his seat, grasping the red book. "Gotta go! Heheh-er-St-Stay in school, kid." He snapped a finger and pointed, then clamored off. "Just...er...d-don't take any literature classes anytime soon."

The girl blinked after him. "Mommy—Elves aren't as funny as I thought they were..."

"That's nice, Gwendolyn, dear. Suck your lollipop._**Ahem**__. So like I was saying, Persephone, Chris Benoit defeating both HHH and HBK __**twice**__ in a row? Pfft—I swear, they are SO onto __**us**__!"_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Hao does it feel?" Victor Stone asked while plugging a cable from his cranium to a computer uplink station. "Just as tight as last time?"

Across the underground lab at Stonetech Industries, Madeline sat in a chair before a haphazardly arranged tray of computer gadgetry. Her hands smoothely brushed over what looked like a black placemat strung up between plastic frames. A humming noise, and tiny permutations began forming along the glossy-canvassy surface of the output device before her.

"Hrmmm..." Madeline gently stroked her hands over a series of rhythmically placed holes on the top frame of the device. A series of tiny nodes—like cylinders—poked out of the various holes in a distinguished pattern, which she gracefully 'read' with left-to-right strokes of her fingertips before smiling and then liberally _feeling _down towardsthe shapes made by the mat. Before her gray eyes, a monitor (which Victor could see) was displaying a visual accompaniment to the textural data. "Tight indeed." She mused. "Tight as tourniquet."

"'Dry as a funeral drum'?" Victor added.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind." He sighed. "You listen to too many dayum symphonies, girl."

"Enno Bolognini or gee-tee-effo-ohh." Madeline's lips curved. "Hrmmmm...Have you uploaded all of the data yet?"

"Halfway. Don't rush my brain, girl."

"I take it this is the recorded gang conversation I'm looking at..."

"Huh?" Cyborg blinked, cable dangling between him and the computer. He squinted his good eye to see the visual monitor displaying a frozen chunk of sound waves from the conversation recorded at the gangs' meeting. "Oh right. Yeah—that's the start of it. The meeting was about two minutes in when Raven and Stargirl teleported within listening distance and began recording. _Dayum!_ Hao can you...well..._SEE_ sounds that clearly?"

"You forget who you're speaking to..."

"Never. That would be a crime."

"Forgiveable, but silly, I'm sure." She smiled again, continuing to 'read' the snippet with her fingers. "After all, I once hopped along with you and Robin wearing a subwoofer for a brassier. Remember?"

"So _that_ was your big secret that day!"

"The gloves I wear in that suit provide a secondary textural input for providing me with a sonic blueprint of my virtual surroundings-"

"Naw, Maddie, I was talking about the subwoofer part."

"Victor..."

"Heh. Right. Right. Sorry..." He smirked, finished uploading the data, and retracted the usb plug back into his skull with a _**snap!**_ "I'm just in a righteously good mood, ever since you talked your father out of having a virtual shitstorm over last night."

"Shhh—Watch the gutterspeak. It's a distraction."

"...'Virtual'?"

"Ah—Here. I think I've found the average acoustic frequency of the room. Lemme guess—The interior is about twelve by twenty feet in size? Height of ten feet?"

"Height of eleven, actually-"

"Ah. Right. Hmm...Got it."

"Yeesh...Hao can you know all this so quickly? I haven't even started the clip!"

"Unless there's a train going by the apartment at the time, I'm guessing there're eighteen people in the room."

"That's about right, yeah. Raven said eighteen."

"And she and Stargirl were-"

"Outside the room. Yes. Yeesh." Cyborg rubbed the human half of his head and stood behind her. "You're good at this."

"Not really. My cello playing is better."

"I dunno, girl. I don't think any hobby could beat this level of crazy _finger_-hearing."

"It has to be..." Madeline murmured, 'feeling' the recorded snippet a little more with her fingers while talking. "Otherwise, what would my dad think I'm up to at all hours of the night?"

"You've got a point there...I dun think he'd be much of a fan for the Tron suit with iPods for nipples."

"Heh, if he knew that I had a hand in remodulating the same sonic frequency of the hand-cannon you used to trash his supply truck-"

"Yeah. Got it."

"Hao's the arm feel, by the way? Does it still accidentally shatter drinking glasses when you make the 'okay' symbol?"

"I GOT IT. Ahem—Go on with your Pinball Wizardy, Miss Kobayashi-chan."

"After you. Roll the clip."

"Gladly." He reached in and clicked the appropriate window with a mouse icon.

The clip started playing, filtering through the speakers in a sort of clarity that only one of Victor Stone's recording bugs could capture. Two men chattered, a two and fro conversation. Cantonese bumping heads with Japanese—and occasional English intermixed.

"Oh...my bad..." She smiled slightly. "There are _sixteen_ men in the room. I guess one of them is just a heavy breather."

"I'll try to hide my disappointment in you..." Cyborg drolled.

"Sure sounds like a fish market in there." Madeline made a face. "Hao did you translate all of this dialogue in time to make the necessary move to Fifth Street?"

"Same way you do." Cyborg said. Then shrugged. "Robin and I rolled through a Panda Express drive thru."

Madeline giggled. "Cute, but stupid."

"Story of my life..."

"The Cantonese I'm a little sketchy on." Madeline murmured aloud. "But the Japanese voices—and I've counted three of them so far..."

"_Amazing_...Go on."

"They've all got a unique dialect. It oozes wth Kanto, but it's hard to put an exact finger on it...heh—Sounds like they've been in America too long. If I didn't know better, I'd say half of the room belongs to the Inagawa-kai...or former members of it."

"Much of the Neon Hand are former Yakuza."

"If you believe in such a thing as 'former' Yakuza, then sure."

Cyborg blinked. "What's that supposed to mean-?"

"Ah. One of them's nervous..." Madeline's mouth hung open in a grin as she craned her neck. "Can't you hear the rhythmic tapping of a boot against the floorboard?"

"Uhhh..." Victor's brow furrowed. "...No."

"That's fine. Neither can the other gang members—I'm sure that would make them think that something's amiss."

"You think there's something going on that my team and I didn't catch onto?"

"Well, I can only understand half of the conversation, but I think you're right about the alien transfer story."

"According to translation..." Cyborg said, pacing behind the seated heiress. "...their teams were going to work in opposite cars. A Neon Hand group would take point while one cluster of Dead Men gang members drove one truck and another group of Neon Hand peops drove the other."

"And the Dead Men would follow up at the rear. I catch that part nao—Just..." She lingered.

"Just what?"

"One second. Could you patch me through to manual control over the audio clip?"

"Yeah. Sure thing." Cyborg performed the necessary keyboard strokes. "All yours."

"Thank you." Madeline swiveled her hands over to a series of braille-reinforced keys. She typed a storm of words—swiveled back over to the mat, and clicked a button on the frame. The sound clip on the monitor paused before Cyborg, so did the voices coming through the speakers. "Nao to broaden..." She stroked her hands in opposite directions across the map. The frequency of the sound clip stretched vertically. "...and to elongate." She stroked her fingers some more. The sound waves stretched, and tinier bands appeared faintly in between.

Cyborg squinted and watched, quietly, as Madeline worked her magic.

"Hrmmmm...and time to filter..." She timidly danced a few fingers across the mat, found a spot, and spread her thumb away from her index. Finally the clip narrowed in on a splot of sound distortion that hardened into solidity the closer it was brought to the surface of analysis. "Here...and...**there.**" She tapped a button on the frame and stroke a few letters on the keyboard. "Hah."

The sound clip resumed—a dragged out and bass-overwhelming miasma of noise and gluttural roars.

Cyborg made a face and did an eardig. "Unless you've found evidence that Ringo buried Paul, I don't see hao this is helping us any."

"You mean you don't hear **that**?" Madeline exclaimed.

"I'm pretty sure I'm about to hear all the dogs in Jump City baying at the top of their manges—But I sure as Hell don't hear what you're excited about."

She paused the tape, swung her hand fiercely across the mat, and dragged the clip back to one particular area of distortion. "**Here.** Right _here_. Do you at least _see_ it?"

"...I think I _see_ something. If I didn't know better, I'd say that there's a dramatic change in acoustics at this part."

"I know. Exactly."

"But it's not a voice—I don't think it's hardly even a breath.." Cyborg squinted at the screen, rubbing the human part of his head. "Probably just the apartment settling in on its foundation or something. It's an old building. Things like that happen."

"I know the odds are against me being correct—But I think something entirely different is taking place here..." Madeline murmured. "Because it starts here and-" She squished the entire clip into a virtual peanut shell to show the majority of it in one monitor's glance. "-goes on for nearly the rest of the recording."

"Meaning what exactly...?"

"I don't know...but I think I want to look further."

"Don't you mean _hear _further?"

"Hardy har. Would you be a dear and grab me a glass of water, Victor?"

Cyborg dramatically sauntered away with a goofy grin. "Yessum, Missus Boss Lady! Yessum!"

"Oh, for Lord's sake, Victor!" Madeline rolled her blind eyes and continued at the computer. "I just asked! Don't break the laws of decency!"

"But I dun know nothin' about birthin' no decency!" Cyborg cauterwauled.

"OUT!"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The sign read 'Ding Dong Daddy's Auto Repair and Facilities'. The first part, namely—the **name—**was the largest, brightest, and most prominent—viewable from nearly five blocks in any direction across the Central District of Jump City. This was because the sign stretched tall above a forty acre lot filled to the brim with every skeletal piece of automobile known to man, some stacked as tall as two and a half stories. The appendix to this aluminum wasteland was an unnecessarily tiny, two-story shack of a building with a double-decker garage attached to its wing. Here, under the waning gold of the afternoon, two dozen young men from all around the surrounding neighborhoods clustered to examine, fix, repair, and rearrange various cars lined up for service.

Robin stared at this site, perched within the shadows of two forty-foot-high billboards, split in a 'v'. He squinted his eyemask'd vision through a pair of binoculars, lowered the seeing tool, and glanced at an infrared scan he had taken of the repair shop just seconds before with another gadget. The words 'No Positive Match' flashed in bright green text.

"So...Still recuperating, are you...?" Robin spoke to the air. He expected no answer. A quiet exhale, and he pocketed the devices away.

"**Batman never did take the testimony of homeless people too seriously when conducting investigations. Such is a wise precaution—but mostly relevant in Gotham, a city where madness is seldomly reserved just for Arkham alone.**

"**The man I met in the warehouse; his words only confirmed a nagging fear that had been growing in my gut since several months ago when I first started scooping up the ugly bits of Jump City from the sand. There's a network in this City—a festering type—but not as porous as I thought. It never occurred to me that the Central City Gangs could be actually _affiliated_ with the Underworld. They had always seemed eternal enemies to both the Neon Hand and the Dead Men. Though, wyrd things have happened before; the Underworld itself would not even _exist_ without the paradoxical coexistence of the Neon Hand and the Dead Men, obvious nemeses of one another in the naked streets above. I shudder to think if even the _Buzzard Gang_ is a part of this proverbial Dante's Treehouse _as well_.**

"**The fact that the Neon Hand and/or the Dead Men could have Gordanian technology in their possession is no strange idea to me. Cyborg's suspected it too—and that's hao the entire chase began, leading our team rather awkwardly to the false exclamation point last night in front of St Faustina Cathedral.**

"**But if what I nao suspect is true—Then there're more people than we had presumed dipping their greedy hands into the polluted Bay Water that we all had thought purified by nao. And if _HE_ has a part in this, then there's plenty of reason to worry—and yet plenty of reason to feel hopeful for. The Underworld has constantly been eluding us. With the recent purges made within departments of Stone Industries, as well as the constant presence Cyborg's team and I have maintained early on in the streets of Jump City, it would only be natural for the target of our endeavors to have bubbled to the surface in a natural attempt to breathe. But if the Central Gang Members are that very choke point—then I, of all people, know whom to choke. I might come to Cyborg later with the results of this next search, but this leg of the journey is something I must do on my own.**

"**Haoever, after the last time I had to make do with '_choking'_ this man, I had anticipated that he wouldn't be at his normal haunt. So the next best thing in this situation is to investigate the ghost-of-the-ghost's haunting. Sometimes...all it takes is a simple jog across the street."**

Robin took a deep breath.

He turned toward the other side of the billboard, and peered straight down. Beneath him, delapidated and dingy, a one story flat rested square across the pavement from Ding Dong Daddy's Auto Shop. In flickering neon lights, parallel to a line of dusty motorcycle heaps, the sign made out '_Muffler Pub'_.

Robin groaned inwardly, stretched his legs, and lithely leapt down towards the dirty earth below.

"**By all that's holy, I hate drinking holes."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_By all that's holy, I can't believe our City is even allowing this to go on! Six teenagers—barely old enough to drive—being allowed to continue their costume charade of collateral damage and intimidation, in spite of the obvious damage that's been done to both the JCPD and helpless citizens of our great town, such as Mr. Philanthropist God-Amongst-Men Kobayashi? Ladies and gentlemen, take a long look at these dollar figures—losses in the hundreds of thousands that our City is having to swallow, just for the putrid sake of excusing the existence of this moronic half-baked, pre-pubescent, wannabe Justice League! Do yourself a favor and follow my example—Write your City's illustrious leader, Mayor Georgeton. Get Commissioner Kneehouse on his case! Tell him and her that we will not stand for this! Our Jump City was beautiful and fair before this stupidity began, and it will be beautiful and fair long after—so long as we get rid of this metahuman mania and go back to our ordinary lives! I mean—when did we ever ask to have a giant ship full of alien reptiles crash into our Bay? Or when did we ever need the city's best represntative in financial prosperity being treated like a common thug! Trust me, you'll be doing Jump City a favor if you, just like myself, execute your right to free speech and say NO to the Teen Tragics! You've been watching the 'Gloves are Off'. This is Blake Glover, and remember—You can never be too **loud** if you're in the **right**! Back to you, Merilyn-"_

The t.v. switched to a young asian woman's face as the JCN Broadcasting logo returned—Only for a meaty hand to reach up and switch the channel to a baseball game.

"Hey!" A heavily tattooed scarecrow of man sitting at the bar spat over his tall glass of beer, frowning at the barkeep. "I was watching that, Miles!"

"No you weren't, Jed." A whispy, balding man with hairy arms polished a glass while shuffling down towards the other end of the bar counter. "You were just waiting for your favorite pretty anchorperson to give you jollies." Miles grumbled. "Well, save your wolf whistles for when you're home with your wife. The boys here wanna watch the game."

A deep throated "**Yeah!**" gluttered forth from a hazy sea of pool tables and darts on the other side of the smoke-filled drinking establishment. A few chuckles bounced from meaty head to meaty head, floating over a random piss-drunk somnambulist or two, settling on the peppery eyebrows of many a glaring pair of eyes.

"Who wants to watch the lousy Springers game?" 'Jed' made an even uglier face, sipping from his glass and then exhaling: "They've been 0 for 14 since the start of March!"

"_Hey! Screw you!"_

"No, screw **you**!" Jed barked back towards the shadows. "Grow a pair of balls, jackass! Then toss them at their dugout and see hao long it takes them to get it just beyond the foul line!"

"_Hahahaha!"_

"_Good one, Jed!"_

"Damn right I'm good..." Jed fished for a cigarette and lighter. "Nao put the news back on."

Miles served another man a drink, sighed exasperatingly, and tossed his arms up high. "Okay—WHO ELSE WANTS THE NEWS BACK ON?"

A mixture of over two dozen grunts, growls, gluttural hisses, and burps.

"Mmmmnff! What the Hell's wrong with you people?" Jed muttered through the loose cigarette in his mouth, struggling to get his lighter to work. "Mmf...Problem with this City is that nobody gets together on a single issue. But this Glover guy...Heh...he's on the ball."

"I dunno..." A heavily bearded biker a few barstools down shrugged, standing with his back to the counter and sipping from his bottle. "Seems like a bunch of hot air to me."

"But you gotta hand it to him: '_Teen Tragics'_. Heh. I really like that." He finally flicked his lighter on, brought the flame to the end of his cigarette, and took a deep puff. Exhaling fumes, he pivoted towards the rest of the pub and slurred: "Say 'AYE' if you like a bunch of pimply-headed pricks trying to run your city around!"

A roar of mighty disapproval and hate reverberated through the hazy lair, followed by a throng of coagulated chuckles and belches.

"Heh. That's what I friggin' thought."

"Heh, well gotta hand it to you, Jed." Miles smirked slimily while attempting to spitshine an even slimier drinking glass. "You got the entire pub to agree on one thing for a change."

"_Yeah! Who needs those stupid-ass kids?"_

"_Send them to Metropolis! Blueboy needs a few new playthings!"_

"_Hahah—'This just in! Sobbing Teen Tragics want their mommy cuz their city HATES them!'"_

"Heheheh..." The nearby biker sipped from his bottle and nodded towards Jed and Miles. "You know, rumor's out that Kneehouse is just _this_ close to throwing them in irons."

"HA! That'd be rich!" Jed smirks. "After all the blunders these kids have made, it's a shame she hasn't done it before. Shows you hao dedicated our illustrious police force is to doing the smart thing."

"_Heh...You said that right."_

"'Yes, superkids, I'm sorry—But we won't be giving you the key to the City until you earn a key to your jail cell'!"

"_Ha HA!"_

"Yeah, a week in the joint that I've been in would shape them out." The biker smirked. "Or, Hell, might talk the Boy Wonder into wearing shorts again."

"_Oh snap!"_

"Mmmmf! Idiot!" Jed muffled through the cigarette in his mouth, blew smoke, and waved the burning article. "It ain't the _same_ Robin! Don't you ever pay attention? One of 'em grew up and became Arsenal!"

"_The Hell you talking about? That punk from Gotham became Wildcat!"_

"_Oh, you're a REAL genius there, buddy. Stick to smacking 8-balls."_

"_I'll smack your mother-"_ **THWACK! **_"OW! Sonuva-"_

"Dammit, Rick, Jeff!" Miles hissed towards the far side of the hazy pub. "Those cues are coming off your tab!"

"_He started it! Yellow bellied junkie!"_

"_Screw that! Nnngh—Jed and his big mouth started it!"_

"Hey! Can't I have an intelligent discussion with all my friends here?" Jed took another puff, exhaled, and pointed towards the entire group across the smoggy forest. "I'm telling you, we're **lucky**! That's what we are!"

_"Hahaha—WAT?"_

"Dammit, boy..." The biker glared back at the tatooed smoker. "Just hao are we lucky?"

"Glover's on the ball—What we've got here is the Justice League _Diet_! I bet I could wrench an arm of two or three without them even so much as _touching_ me! Mrmmf! The Teen Tragics will be gone within a week, man!" Another puff, exhaled. "Pfft—It just goes to show, Jump City's never gonna change. We can rest and live the easy life. Just wait, you'll see. The only protection I need is two fists and my tattoo needle back at home!"

"_In that case..."_ A green glove tugged Jed's vest down enough to expose a particular shoulder art. _"Learn to spell 'Anarchy' correctly next time."_

"Mmmf!" Jed angrily puffed and spun on his barstool. "Sweetcheeks, you're sneaking up on the wrong—_Holy Buddha on a Cracker!"_

"_Dah! What in the flying-?"_

"_Holy shit!"_

"_Where did he come from...-?.!"_

A concussive wave of falling chairs, twirling barstools, and collapsing pool cues emanated outward from the figure standing beside Jed.

"..." Robin stared at everyone from under a glinting eyemask. He stepped slowly into the penumbra of the ceiling television's glow and stood at the bar counter between Jed and biker—both of whom were still speechlessly reeling. The entire bar was a suddenly soundless submarine of rubbery tension. Robin glared across the bar, his arms mystically enshrouded by the liquid metal of his black-on-yellow cape. "Hello, Miles..."

The bar keeper nervously swallowed. "H-Hey there, kid."

"'Kid'?" Robin's brow furrowed. "Getting old quick, are we, Mr. Kennedy?"

"I...Uhm...D-Do we have to talk _here_, B-Boy Wonder?" Miles nervously smiled, sweated, sweat-smiled.

"Wait a second..." Jed chewed on his cigarette, glancing wide-eyed back and forth between the bartender and the sudden superhero. "You know this punk, Miles?"

"No calling 'punk' in front of the 'punk', Jed..." Miles held up a shakey hand, eyes frozen on the Boy Wonder. "Just lemme deal with this..."

"But you've never really dealt with _anything_, have you, Miles Kennedy? At least, not elbows deep. Hao long were you in Stonegate for what happened to the family of five up in Bludhaven?"

"I've been good ever since parole—You ain't got nothing on me, kid..." The bartender glared under his bald spot.

"So it _was_ parole that got you out?" Robin frowned. "For a second there, I thought you escaped because you couldn't even bare the pathetic five years they gave you..."

"I never had a fair trial to begin with..." Miles hissed. "Stupid lawyers! Manslaughter my ass-"

"If they knew what I know about what you did to the Orson family's daughters before the car accident, you'd be lucky to have gotten any less than fifty years—Much less with your manhood still chemically functioning, you sick little ingrate."

"You think you can intimidate me here over something that happened back in Gotham?" Miles growled.

Robin leaned forward, eyemask thinning. "Do I look like Batman to you?" His teeth showed.

"..." Miles bit his lip.

"...Well." Robin leaned back in a gentler breath. "All in good time. Today, haoever..." He spoke fearlessly, quietly, in the hazy center of everyone. "I need some information, Mr. Kennedy."

"Infor...-mation?" Miles blinked.

"You really think you'd be worth chasing after again? You couldn't outrun a bulldozer." Robin cocked his head slightly to the side. "D-Cube. Where is he? I wish to know."

"Ding Dong Daddy?" Miles did a double take. "You mean ours?"

"I'm certainly not asking for Bizzaro World's D-Cube. Where is he, Kennedy? I know he's not in his shop across the street."

"After the number you did to him...?" Miles chuckled breathlessly, sweating. "What the Hell more would you want from the poor bastard?"

"Wait...what kind of number?" The biker asked.

"Shhh!" Miles hissed at him.

"Mr. Kennedy..." Robin leaned forward, gloves icily gripping the edges of the bar. "I'm growing impatient. D-Cube. Nao."

"I wouldn't know..." Miles tried his futile best to pretend he was carefully cleaning a glass he had pretended to have cleaned earlier. "...he hops around so much, I c-can't keep tr-track! If I were you, and you would know best, I'd look into the nearest hospital-"

"Don't insult my intelligence. I've had a bad day." Robin droned. "I'm entitled to make yours worse."

"Ooooh hoo hooo!" Jed puffed and held his cigarette while exhaling in a grin. "Tough guyyyy-"

"Jeddddd..." Miles hummed.

"Man, why're you letting this punk _push you around?_" Jed sauntered around Robin once, twice. He puffed again and exhaled—this time letting the second hand smoke engulf Robin's still-as-stone face. "What's the matter, Teen Tragic? You've done all the talking! Is that all you're good for?"

"Jed, I mean it-" Miles' teeth chattered.

"You mean nothing, man!" Jed said, muffled. The tip of his cigarette flared as he waved his arms about the pub's interior. "_Lookeehere!_ Does this _look_ like some stupid rooftop in Gotham? Or a museum full of clown props? HAH! This is Central Jump City, man! This is _our_ home!"

"And we're mighty comfortable here..." The biker joined in, grinning. He finished a lasting sip of his bottle, then sauntered over towards Robin, cracking his knuckles. "Nao why don't you stop asking so many questions and get comfortable too?"

"_Yeah, kid..."_ Another muscled patron stepped up from the back, flanked by two others, all palming rigid pool cues. _"Relax those muscles of yours."_

"_Kick your shoes off..."_ Another biker walked up, suddenly producing a baseball bat.

"_Hehehehe...Unwiiiiiind..."_ **Flik!** A switchblade glinted in the television's light.

"..." Robin glanced left. Robin glanced right. He remained standing in his spot, not moving a single inch, not so much as turning his head.

The crowd of Muffler Pub grew closer, zeroing in on Robin—the eye of the quiet hurricane. They stood shoulder to shoulder with him like he was just another patron. As Miles saw this, the shudders left his scraggy shoulders, and the balding man smiled. "Yeah, Robin...Since you've come and paid us all a visit..." He braved a firmer breath and leaned forward over the counter. "Hao can we make this..._quick_ for you?"

All the men stood thickly around the Boy Wonder.

Finally Jed, with a proud chuckle, leaned in and slapped a 'buddy' hand on Robin's shoulder, squeezing it slightly.

Robin glanced silently at it. "..." He stared...stared...stared...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_(Nine Months Ago)_

_A half-naked boy knelt before the gently lapping waters of an underground lake._

_The sharp cave's floor cut against his knees. The cold air exposed his pained, panting breath in ghostly wisps. His muscles trembled under pale skin, covered from head to toe in purple bruises, cuts, and lascerations. Two of his left fingers were bent in the wrong direction, and he bled heavily from the mouth._

_As the boy trembled there, bleeding on his knees, facing the frigid waters...the woman walked behind him. She paced quietly, patiently, and held a metal staff out. With a flick of her finger, two blades extended—glinting in lantern light—from either side of the cylindrical weapon._

_Chiiiing!_

"_Nao, once more, I command you..."_

_She tossed the double-bladed staff down at his bloodied knees._

"_Fight." She ordered. "Fight to kill."_

_He hiccuped, shivered, but finally hissed through clenched and bleeding teeth._

"_**No."**_

_She said nothing; merely paced once more around him, produced a bo-staff of her own, and swung it directly across the boy's face._

_**CLANGGG!**_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"..." Robin looked up from Jed's hand and calmly asked the Bartender of the Muffler Pub: "Might I have a drink?"

Miles blinked. He looked up at Jed.

Jed smirked back. He waved the cigarette in his hand, smirked with a wink and a nod, and planted the cancer stick back between his curved lips.

A grin came to Miles face. "Hey, what the Hell?" He reached back towards the bar, clanking through a few choice bottles. "Might as well become a man before you die, right?"

A few of the muscular creatures around Robin chuckled and tightened the grips on their various weapons.

"Make it a vodka." Robin said, just as calmly.

Mutterings. More chuckles.

Miles eyed the kid for a second, then smirked. "Yeah, alright." He reached for an appropriate bottle, uncapped it, and reached for a glass. "Strong stuff. It'll kick right where it counts."

"Pour me a tall one." Robin said.

More chuckles and whistles.

"For a half-pint kid like you...?" Miles winked. "I think we'll stick to a half pint, kay?"

Robin merely nodded. "As you wish."

"Pssst..." Jed whispered to the bearded biker. _"But when he said 'as you wish', what he really meant was..._"

"Oh shut up."

_"Heheheh..."_

Miles poured the small glass straight to the brim with vodka, placed it before Robin, and rested the bottle besides it. _Cl-Clink!_ He leaned forward with a wink. "Enjoy."

A bored Robin nodded. Then—_Swiiiish!_-he brought his left hand up and slapped Jed hard in the back with a blurring glove.

The tatooed man sputtered, coughing up his lit cigarette-

-which promptly fell straight into the poured glass. _**Fwoosh!**_ The drink caught fire-

-and Robin mercilessly tossed it straight into Miles' face. _**PHWOOOMB!**_

"AAAAAAAA-!" The man's scream billowed through tongues of flame as he brought two gnarled hands up to his melting face and fell back from the bar.

Robin then grabbed the vodka bottle and swung is straight into Jed's twitching face. **_SMASSH!_**

"Grlllgkkk!" Jed coughed up blood and glass shards.

The biker and another man immediately grabbed at Robin's arms-

-But Robin gripped their wrists in reverse, twisted them—**_SN-SNAP_**-and flung them off before gripping the bar counter with both hands and reverse kicking the howling patrons' sternums with a weighted pair of boots. **_TH-THAP!_** The two men collapsed into the grasping crowd of drinkers, forcing them to fall painfully on their splintering pool cues.

In the same ensuing second, Robin spun on the barstool like a breakdancer, leapt down to his feet—_Snkkkt-_extended his bo-staff, then wedged the weapon between the floor and barstool support. Using it like a lever, he quick-as-a-blink ripped the stool off its hinges and kicked the sudden projectile into three charging men with switchblades.

_**SM-SM-SMACK!**_ The single blow tossed all three back until they crashed through a shattering pooltable. **_CRKKK! _**Various colored and numbered balls rolled out from their writhing bodies as the rest of the pub looked on in gasping horror.

_Th-Th-Thwissh!_ Robin twirled his bo-staff and ended in a muscle-taut fighting pose. Glove outstretched in a fierce display, he frowned the weight of the universe upon the onlooking Muffled Pub posse and growled above the burning screams of Miles behind him.

"Unless anymore of you scum want to dance, I'm giving you a five minute head start to leave this place and never come back."

A collective silence—finally every groaning and bloodied man limped out at a wounded cheetah's pace. The rest of the crowd clamored over each other to pile out the door. A few panicked patrons were even dutiful enough to wake those in drunken slumber so they could flee too. At last, Jed stumbled out, weeping up bloody tears and nicotine. Soon, the entire room was empty—save for Robin and the muffled yelps of Miles Kennedy, the bartender.

"..." Robin sighed. _Snkkt!_ He retracted the bo-staff, turned around, climbed over the bar, and hopped down in time to find Miles on the floor—having finished putting out the fire on his upper body with two red, red hands.

"Nnngh...Aggghhh...Mmnnghh..." Miles looked with smoke-ringed eyes up at the Boy Wonder. His lips were peeling away. The skin around his fingernails hung off like snowflakes. "Are...Are...A-Are you **m-mad**?"

Robin leered over him. "You haven't seen me angry."

"You j-just about burned my fingers off, you l-little shit!"

"Not enough to clean off the blood of children, I'm sure."_ Swooosh—__**THPP**__! _Robin knelt and held Miles' twitching throat in an iron-grip. The caped crusader gnashed his teeth. "Nao answer my questions, you pathetic **slug**—For it's the only thing your putrid life will ever be **good** for."

"I can't tell you anything about D-Cube!" Miles twitched, sputtered, winced. "Y-You-You kn-know what he'd do to me?"

"You'd better straighten your priorities out real quick," Robin frowned. He reached up and grabbed a random bottle with his other hand. "Or should I consider having another drink?"

"Okay! Okay! I'll talk! I'll talk!"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"So, give it to me straight, Doc..." Garfield Logan, sitting on the edge of the examination bed, hoisted his shirt back on, but not without glancing over his shoulder to give the birthmark one last forlorn look. "Is it going to _kill_ me?"

"Well, Mr. Logan..." began Doctor Hunnicutt, an old barrel of a man, balding, gray-eared, but remarkably blessed with a cheerful face, replete with Rockwellian dimples. He was thumbing through a sheet on a clipboard and glancing Beast Boy's way through a pair of softly glistening bifocals as he spoke: "I've worked on victims of Apokolipton abduction, people subjected to fear gas, talking hyperintelligent primates, at least two extraterrestrials, and one rather angsty cybernetic nerd..." He shrugged. "And I can't find a single thing wrong with you."

Beast Boy's eyes darted from side to side. "Your face speaks 'okay', but the shoulders throw me off."

"Well, Garfield—It says here-" The rotund man squinted over the elfling's report as he spoke aloud. "-that at the age of _five_, you were bitten by a rabid monkey, of the Green-Capped Mangabey variety, supposedly, that infected you with Sakutia—a virus that is one hundred percent fatal to human beings."

"Yeah. Fatal. Ehm...drr...Wh-When I'm in a human state," Garfield remarked, pensively rubbing the back of his fuzzy head.

"A human state, I see..." Dr. Hunnicutt leaned back with his arms folded. "And right nao you are-"

"Not human."

"Ah. Right. Of course, I should have sumised as much, having worked so long in the Metropolitan Metahumans Medical Facility for over two decades."

"H-Hey!" Garfield chuckled. "M&M!" A beat. He cleared his throat. "Er...-_& M_..." Another cough. "..._-& F_...I-I guess..."

"Heh, quite alright. I've run into a few non-humanoid species in my day..." He cocked his pleasant head to the side, squinting at Beast Boy's twitching ear-points. "But I can't say I've honestly taken note of the species you are."

"And what do you mean...'species I am'?"

"Er, well, I suppose 'species you're inhabiting' would be a more fitting term." Hunnicutt politely smiled.

"Yes. Well. That's easy. I'm..." Beast Boy blinked. "I'm...that is to say..." He bit his lip. "Well, yanno, I'm not too sure what I am."

"Your health files say that your parents gave you an innoculation with a special chemical in it..." Hunnicutt once again glanced over the clipboard's plethora of information. "And that said-chemical produced an evolutionary kick in your DNA, creating a shape-shifting metagene."

"It was an experimental compound that they had spent _years_ producing." Beast Boy smiled, then a bittersweet exhale. "They...Th-They could have sent it in to Harvard, like they had always planned to—Coulda gotten a Nobel Prize for it. You know, Nobel? The dynamite dude?"

"Not personally, but I heard he's famous." Hunnicutt grinned.

"Yeah, so, they used it on me instead. All of those years of research—straight down the drain and into my arteries."

"You _lived_ because of their miraculous intervention." The Doc pointed. "It if wasn't for that serum, you would never have been able to find another DNA anchor to conform to—which would allow you to avoid the poisonous effects _Sakutia _has on Homo sapiens."

"But by the time my parents could reproduce the serum...They...Well..." Beast Boy gulped and scratched his head, gazing off into the corner. A sigh. "Long story short, there're no other married couples on this planet who are smart enough to do what they had accomplished in so little a time. So I'm doomed to be the only fuzzy headed green elf person thingy on the planet."

"You don't see it as a _blessing_?" Doc asked. "To be able to metamorph at a mere thought? To—heh-not _die_ from one of the most undeniably fatal diseases known to man?"

"Doesn't help that I can't _be _*man*on a whim as well." Beast Boy uttered.

"Perfectly understandable. But, given the circumstances-"

"I'm thankful, yeah, Doc. But...heh...guess you can't have everything, right? I mean—They say you worked with Cyborg for so long."

"Uh huh."

"You probably know him more than any of us on this superhero-team-thing he's started."

"That's a solid possibility, yes."

Beast Boy cocked his head curiously to the side. "Does he ever show up for appointments, bitching to you about being made out of metal, allowed to survive a horrendous death—sure—but, I dunno, not able to do simple things like picking flowers up from the ground without clumsily plowing the field for corn cobs? Or some angsty fluff like that?"

"Well, Mr. Logan, if Mr. Stone was to come to me with such angsty fluff—That would be a matter of patient-doctor confidentiality, wouldn't it?" Hunnicutt smirked knowingly.

Beast Boy chuckled, hopping down from the edge of the bed. "Yeah, Doc, well, if angst was a matter of secrecy in this country, then America's got it reallllly bad with daytime talk shows. Lemme tell you."

Doc faced the young hero as he paced around. "Lemme ask you something."

"Fire away."

"Why do you think you chose the form you did to keep as your base?"

"My..." Beast Boy turned around in mid-pacing to blink at the old man. "...base?"

"Your anchor. Your clean slate. Your next-to-being-human-but-not-quite-human?"

Beast Boy shrugged. "I suppose it's the closest thing to being a normal person that doesn't involve a mountain of hair falling into my Froot Loops when I'm trying to spoon myself breakfast in the morning." He smiled nervously. "I...uh...tried it as a chimpanzee for a few months in second grade, cuz I wanted to do something different. Rita claims that I was starting to throw stuff that _wasn't_ Play-Dough. To this day, heh, I think she was faking it in order to scare me back into the elf."

"And Rita is-"

"No secret there. Elasti-girl. You know. The Doom Patrol?"

"Ahhh! Led by Dr. Niles Caulder. I once met the man at a medical conference in Berlin. His lecture on human brain transplants and preservation was _astounding_. It helped me and Silas Stone complete the work on Cyborg so efficiently."

"Huh. Fancy the circle of life we've got here!" Beast Boy toothily grinned. "Minus Disney stealing from Kimba: The White Lion."

"I-I'm afraid I don't follow you."

"Perfectly alright. Most people don't." Beast Boy leaned back against a counter of glass-encased medical supplies and gestured: "Look, I appreciate all this Discovery Channel elf-talk...But it still doesn't answer my concern over the color changing cancer on my rump."

"Mr. Logan, it is _not_ a cancer. And as for the appearance-changing, I cannot—even with all of my credentials—give you a proper diagnosis. Just like you, I'm open to guesswork."

"So...I'm back to square one...?" Garfield blinked. "I had to taste a bitter tongue depressor and get my arm squeezed for nothing?"

"I would say that's hardly the case. If I may postulate..." Hunnicutt tapped his upper chest with the clipboard while dictating: "...every time you switch to a specific genome—matching the creature that you envision in your mind, the birthmark switches to an exact, corresponding shape that is always the same everytime you change back to elf-form from said creature, am I correct?"

"Uhhhh...heh...Yeah. I'll choose 'yeah' for five hundred."

"Mr. Logan, a birthmark is nothing more than the dermal layers of the skin being told by hand-me-down genes to grow an extra layer of blood vessels. In your case, you appear to have been born with what many nickname a _Mongolian spot—_Which is most prevalently located in the lower/upper buttocks."

Beast Boy blinked. "So what's that mean? I've got Fa Mulan after my ass?"

"Heheh—No no, Mr. Logan. A _Mongolian spot_ is a congenital development—That is to say, it's formed in the womb, before you are born. Mostly individuals with East Asian or Native American background are prone to possess them."

"Ah..." Garfield nodded with a smile. "My mother was half Cherokee."

"Well, there you go."

"But what about the shape-changing part?" Beast Boy bit his lip. "I'm not supposed to do a rain dance everytime my butt sports a dreamcatcher, do I?"

"I don't suppose you _exclusively _metamorph into mammals, by chance?"

"Eh—as long as it's a vertebrate, the sky's the limit."

"So, reptiles...amphibians...?"

"If the kitchen sink was a vertebrate, I've turned into it as well—So long as its spine is on the _inside_." Beast Boy shivered, clutching himself. "I tried 'spider' once. Couldn't eat anything without a **straw** for a **week**."

"Sounds like a safe precaution to avoid that which you're unfamiliar with—Save for the elf form, of course."

"Of course. But...ahem...just where were you getting at, Doc-?"

Hunnicutt spoke: "I believe the DNA of every creature you're turning into is rewriting the most basic code of your genetic makeup; so that your dermal layer is assuming that you've had a different congenital experience corresponding with each species you impersonate."

"So...uh..." Beast Boy bit his lip, hard in thought. "...everytime I'm coming back from being a komodo dragon or a grey squirrel, the DNA controlling my birthmark thanks I've had a different _mommy_?"

"That wouldn't be an inaccurate analogy." Hunnicutt said. "It is perfectly, and utterly harmless—so long-"

"-as I don't turn into a human. Right." Beast Boy nodded. "Gotta love irony."

"Or a blatant mystery, for that matter," Hunnicutt remarked. "The scientist in me is dying to know just what is the genetic link you've found that's given you those ears."

"Heh. You and me both, Dude. Doc-dude...Dude-Doc."

"Are you absolutely _certain_ that you haven't met another of...well...of **your kind**?"

"I...erm..." Beast Boy scratched his fuzzy head. His eyes fell to the side, towards his shoes and socks—lying besides the examination room next to a certain red book he brought in to not-read. "...eh..." He looked away from the red leather cover. "I'm still looking, as always." He smiled toothily.

"Well, I suppose this examination is over."

"Heh, righto-" Beast Boy made to leave.

"But..." Hunnicutt stepped momentarily in front of him. "It would probably be time-efficient to plout out the next one."

"Er...Next...Huh?" Beast Boy blinked. "Next one? I thought there was nothing wrong with my...er..._rumpus_..."

"Of course there isn't. But according to this..." Hunnicutt waved the clipboard and its papers entwined. "...it's been a good _three years _since you had your blood tested."

"Are you kidding?" Garfield smiled-snorted. "I had blood drawn three weeks ago! For records! It was part of having joined Cyborg's team and-"

"Oh, you know I don't mean _that _blood, Mr. Logan." He pointed with an air of solemnity. "I mean your _human _blood."

"...Ah..." Beast Boy tongued the roof of his mouth. "Ah hah...Th-That blood."

"Exactly." Hunnicutt nodded.

"Yeah, well, the thing about that, Doc..." Beast Boy paced over towards the door, hugged himself, and leaned against it. "Most kids, when they're little, kick and scream when they have to go in for a shot—cuz they think it hurts n stuff. Well, that's all well and good—But when I go to take a shot, like, a **real** shot, it's all a whole lot different. I gotta...well...I g-gotta _turn_ into **human** form. And I'm not all that keen on dying."

"When was the last time you did it?"

"Did what?"

"Turn human."

"Oh."

"Was it when you gave a blood sample-?"

"No...No..." Beast Boy sighed. "It was this one time with the Doom Patrol—Right before I left then to go find work on my own. I did something that Mento said was not too smart. Long story short, I took a hit for the team during one battle against Monsieur Mallah and a particularly ugly ray gun. I had my powers zapped away for an hour. One _whole_ _hour _Doc. I was forced to be a human for _one_ _hour_. I should never have lived. I tossed, turned, and puked my guts up for sixty whole minutes before I could turn back—and it took me about five months before I could gain the twenty pounds I magically loss in a _day_." The changeling gulped, shuddered, and looked sickly Hunnicutt's way. "I'm n-not too sure I'm r-ready to go through that kind of crap again."

"I promise you, Mr. Logan..." Hunnicutt waddled over and placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "It won't last long at all. Barely a minute. You've been able to handle ten minutes before, correct? It says so here..."

"I know what it says—But that was _ages_ ago, Doc. What if I can't do it this time? What if I choke and can't—like-I dunno—turn back to what I am nao?"

"You've made it quite clear that you're in your most _comfortable _and _natural _form; am I correct?"

"Yes. But-"

"And you don't have to turn _your whole_ body into human form. Just your arm or leg and part of your circulatory system will do."

"Heh...You make it sound like I'm Optimus _Primate_ or something."

"Whatever it takes. I insist that we take another blood sample from you, Mr. Logan. As your team's newly appointed physician, I would hate myself if I wasn't insistent. Who's to say that the Sakutia's potency hasn't started showing signs of remission?"

"My disease? Going away?" Beast Boy blinked.

"You're a one-of-a-kind metaperson going through puberty." Hunnicutt smiled hopefully. "Stranger miracles have been known to happen among my past patients."

"Don't get my hopes up, Doc." The elf chuckled, scratching his pointed ear. "I'm still recovering from the Matrix sequels..."

"You seem quite the jokester, Mr. Logan..." Hunnicutt chuckled in slight embarassment. "But I'm afraid most of them are quite over my head, good sir."

"Heh...At least you're more honest than **cruel** about it." Garfield smirked, his gaze briefly elsewhere.

"Oh?"

"Forget I said anything..." The fuzzy elf waved. "So, like—Do we make an appointment?"

"Hao about sometime next week?" Hunnicutt smirked. "I'll come visit you and your team's elusive _Bunker_. So that way, in case you experience any nausea, you won't be that far of a trip from home."

"Aw, Doc, you don't have to go through all the trouble..."

"Trouble? I'm being commissioned by Mr. Stone to provide medical aid for your team, aren't I? It's a job, a privilege, and an honor. Besides..." He smiled again. "It would give me a chance to practice on my bedside manner."

"Please, Doc..." Garfield smiled with faux bashfulness. "...Not on a first date!"

"Eh heh heh heh..." Hunnicutt pointed with the clipboard. "Nao _that_ one, I understood."

"Good..." Beast Boy meagerly chuckled, picking up his book and shoes. "Heh...Ahem. Cuz _I __**didn't**_."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The Thorne Mansion: Named, rather darkly, after Rupert Thorne—the ageless mafia boss of Gotham City distinction. Its three story majesty rested in a niche of craggy slopes, belonging to a mountain range that hugged the extremities of Jump City's Northwestmost section—a cluster of highly affluent manors and summer homes that distanced themselves quite earnestly from the grimey industrial sectors towards the east. Among the nationally-renown kings and queens of capitalism that lived there was none other than the Vreelands, whose surviving heiress Veronica spent several months there when not spending her fortune away in Gotham City.

The existence of the Thorne Mansion, hidden within Jump City limits, owed its thanks to its currently defunct namesake selling the household to an outside buyer after some nasty business with three self-proclaimed 'Batwomen' hit the fan half a decade previous. Since then, the Mansion's management had switched hands at least three times—with each of the owners slightly more respectable than the original resident, but that wasn't saying much.

Finally, the Thorne Mansion was bought out by a rich shareholder from Central City who made it his business to pretend that shareholding was the only reason he was rich. The various personas he _mercifully_ rented the mansion out to slipped under the JCPD's radar; for if Kneehouse was to learn about a single one of them, and discovered their various shifty reasons for needing a hideaway, she would have had the damn place bulldozed already. And yet, there the Mansion resided, and there Robin found himself—riding up on R-Cycle—parking behind a line of trees, and trying hard not to breathe too much of the bitter irony settling down upon his shoulders in the amber rays of the afternoon sunset.

"Couldn't settle for La Quinta, D-Cube?"

He threw two birdarangs up—severing two nearly invisible cameras flanking the cobblestone gate around the mansion. Hopping over in a single breath, he plopped down, squatted, and flung another birdarang out—knocking out a motion detecter before it's final strobe could catch the Boy Wonder's lower body. In a blink, the Boy Wonder dashed over to the garage, slinked along its inner wall, and made his way towards the front gates.

"**It's a very dangerous game we're playing, this table we've joined. I've had plenty of time to practice my poker face alone as I gambled with demons in the darkness. But that was by myself, back in Gotham, strung between all the murky rivers that bled from there, that led me to rediscover my purpose in purging this world of evil, that drew me to the here and nao.**

"**It's easy to throw the chips in when they all belong to you. But today—I'm not just working for myself; I'm working for Cyborg, for his team, and for the magical, golden integrity we're trying to represent, before we've even found it or named it. With each step I take, with each door I kick down, I hear the cards shuffling. I see in the blackest corners of my masked vigilance a new hand being made, a new cutting of the deck. The eyes of the dealers are upon us. They want to see us make a miracle out of the same house they've shared with every other moralistic ghost that's passed through here, trying to play sheriff. Maybe they expect a miracle from us—or maybe they're just scoffing."**

Robin marched up to the double door entrance. He squinted through a pair of translucent glass windows in the frame. Multiple lights were on inside the place. He tongued the inside of his lips, glanced to the right, and found a doorbell.

Bringing a gloved hand out from under his cape, Robin pressed the doorbell. A muffled chime emanated from inside, followed by a mumble of cuss words and footsteps. Robin waited...waited...waited...and...

He kicked open the door.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

A sharp cry as two people were knocked back by the splintering frames. Robin flew in, spun, kicked both of the grounded men with his boots—knocking them cold—and fell to one knee with a grappling hook outstretched towards the nearest gasping person. Robin fired, the hook zipped around the punk's gun arm. The Boy Wonder yanked forward until the victim stumbled within reach, and he jumped to his feet with a vicious uppercut, knocking the boy down to the ground—gun and all—beside his chums. They were teenagers, all of them, mere delinquents dressed in raggedy clothes that carried the stench and depression of Central Jump City streets. Five more of them were standing across the fancily furnished atrium, under a dangling throng of chandelier crystals.

"No." The tallest 'man' growled and reached for his shotgun.

"**Yes**." Robin marched towards him-

The boy and two of his teenaged cohorts aimed their weapons and shot a wave of lead at the Boy Wonder. Robin spun beneath the burning tulmult like an ice skater, scooped up a mahogany coffee table, and flung the thing full force at the three. Two ducked with a yelp—while the man with the shotgun took the full brunt of the throw. He fell back, his boomstick firing into the chandelier above, showering a twenty foot area of the mansion with glass and diamond hail.

"**Whatever the case, our foes are starting to suffer a blight, in the form of a vulnerable curiosity. They're squirming in their subterrannean chairs, shielding themselves with waves of knuckles and street knives, waiting for us to make our move, wondering if they have a _right_ to be scared. And if the villains you're chasing down the rabbit hole show an inch of concern, then that means that someone somewhere is doing something right."**

Robin dove through the crystal shower, plowed the young man to the ground, grabbed the shotgun, and spun to his feet in time to slam the butt of the weapon across the shattering teeth of another charging gunman. Bullets whizzed by him as he kicked the careening thug's body out of harm's way, leapt, swung across the space of the manor via grappling hook, and slammed his feet into another pistol-bearer...kicking him through a sliding glass door and into a jacuzzi glittering with ruby sunset outside.

"**There's a hand knocking at the gates to the Underworld. We're halfway there. But Cyborg's words come back to haunt me, in the damned dizzying circles that he's prophecied, spiraling down the Wonderlandish chase. Can we—or can we not do this, do this again, this time, with any amount of success, without the obligatory someone who will make a sacrifice? Without the wildcard? Can we break the circle? Or does it complete itself, shattered, like our countenance has been since last night?"**

A boy with a nosering and tatoos charged over the fresh wreckage and let loose a barrage from his uzi. Bullets swarmed Robin's figure as the Boy Wonder sprinted past a crumbling soda bar, a wide screen t.v., and an exercise machine. Finally, the clip of bullets emptied; Robin dove behind a sofa, slid sideways out the other side, and flung a birdarang across the way. The projectile skimmed past the teen's face, but not without its razor sharp 'wing' catching his nosering and bloodily plucking it from his nostril. The young man howled, clenching his eyes in pain and clutching the crimson wound on his face. A sound of bootsteps—the thug snarled up in time to find the source of the stomping...straight between his eyes.

"**I respect warning signs. But unlike Cyborg, I don't think I like to dwell on them. I prefer to leap off of buildings and find a way to catch myself on the way down." **

The boy's body log-tumbled over a pool table, his uzi dropping and shooting a dozen bullets harmlessly into the ceiling. Robin breathlessly leapt up, perching a metal railing that bordered an upper level before a large, oak, bedroom door. The sound of guns cocking, and Robin glared over as two final gunmen stood their place before his destination, shouting obscenities. Robin merely reached back, then tossed a weighted pair of bolos. The metal balls flew behind the pair of teenagers, wrapped a bow behind them, and pulled the entwining cord tight until they were forced awkwardly chest-to-chest.

"**Gravity is a lot easier to deal with than obsession. Alas, the day I stop being a hypocrite, I'll write about which of the two wins. End of Entry."**

Robin ran, frogleapt over the two bound thugs, and collided their skulls beneath him in mid-vault. They fell like two piles of meat as Robin landed, marched two final thunderous steps toward the unguarded door...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

-and kicked it open.

_**THUD!**_

He knelt inside, a handful of throwing discs held at the ready. _CHIIIING!_

"Welcome, Robin." Ding Dong Daddy said, a tall and thickly built man leaning against a flickering fireplace mantle. He had a champaign glass in one hand as he gracefully balanced himself with the other arm and an opposite leg in white casts. "Care to have a drink?" D-Cube raised the glass from afar.

"..." Robin stood up, putting the throwing discs away. "No thanks." He droned. "I already had one an hour ago." The Boy Wonder then raised his right fist up—_**THAP!**__-_blindly contacting the nose of a jacuzzi dripping thug who ran up at the last second with a knife.

D-Cube watched boredly as the desperate henchman's body slumped to the ground behind Robin. "So I heard. A half-pint of vodka. Was that really worth making my favorite bartender leap through burning hoops?"

"I _must_ be an outsider to this City if news still travels around faster than I do." Robin said. He shoved the moaning body out with his boot and closed the doors behind him, using a birdarang as a makeshift knob-guard to lock anyone out. "Besides..." He turned about to face the holed up crtein. "...if I _really_ wanted Kennedy to jump through hoops, I would have threatened to speak to his parole officer. The man would rather be burned than go back to Stonegate."

The balding African American rook took a sip, his brass and bronze rings reflecting in the firelight. A swallow, an exhale, then: "Is that your opinion as a self-appointed ruffian of street justice? Beating people within an inch of their life for information seems hardly divine."

"At least I leave them with an _inch to spare_." Robin marched icily towards D-Cube. "Hao much money did you promise the families of those kids outside?-Enough to last them a week until they owe you and your business so much that they have to bleed for it again?"

"Ask yourself that same question, Robin..." D-Cube spoke, maintaining a strong stature in spite of his many bandages. "Nobody in my employment had to even think twice _before_ you and Mr. Stone decided to make things difficult for us."

"I've found that a life of difficulty yields better results than a life fed by ignorance and exploitation, D-Cube."

"Oh, hao I do enjoy these philosophical ellipses we draw, Robin." D-Cube gestured towards a chair. "Why don't you sit down and make yourself comfortable-?"

_**THWOOSH!**_ Robin immediately flung the chair into the fireplace, crashing it in a burst of flames that lit his glaring eyemask. **_Phwooomb!_** "..."

D-Cube nodded towards the mantle. "Or just be predictable. Either way, here we are."

Robin hissed towards the man, inching towards him ever so slowly. "You're sitting in this lavish palace, mending your wounds, because one day I discovered that tolerating your presence in this City was the worse mistake I could have ever made." Robin's tight fists shone in the dancing firelight. "I went on for months, letting you insult me, tease me, even toss murderers and psychopaths at me—And I _tolerated_ it. Because I thought that you were a valuable cesspool of information that could be held harmlessly in the middle."

"I've learned a long, long time ago hao naked and lonely it feels to be at the top." D-Cube spoke. "As much as I want more people under my wing to experience my tutelage, flying _lower_ over the streets is the smartest thing." He raised a finger. "The biggest and highest bird in the sky attracts the most with its plumage. That's why fools like Luthor and Thorne have fallen so hard. When the law gets hungry for someone to shoot down, it aims high."

"You're higher than you pretend to be, D-Cube." Robin said. "The other day, you were commingling with members of the Dead Men in a warehouse of the Northern District. I think you had a hand in granting them the ability to lead my team astray with a false Gordanian radiation signature."

"Hao delightfully aimless and baseless a claim, even for you, Robin!" D-Cube sipped once more, hobbled over to a bedpost, and leaned back. "Tell me. Hao many people did you toss out of tall story buildings to come to this exagerrated conclusion?"

"I threw burning alcohol on a man and tossed granola bars at a bum." Robin's eyemask narrowed. "Syriously, D-Cube, I save the buildings for you."

"Hao quaint..." D-Cube snorted, wincing. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were losing your charm."

"Want to put that to a test? The last time I tossed you around, you didn't exactly land anywhere—feet up or down."

"And you made me wish I did." The dark-skinned man nodded. "I remember that."

"_Do you_ remember, D-Cube? Or do you want another crash course?"

"You can't threaten someone you've already broken once, Robin. He learns from it."

"But what he doesn't _know_ is the key. For instance—I know hao to put you back together..." Robin's next voice came out in a sneer. "...in all the _wrong ways_."

"And for a moment there I thought you had moved beyond this petty intimidation."

"A straight line is a straight line, D-Cube. Talk, while your voice is still discernible."

"Very well..." D-Cube placed his empty glass onto a table. "I did indeed meet with the Dead Men...and, yes, the Neon Men too, if you must know."

Robin's fists clenched...

D-Cube continued. "But it was not to give them the silver bullet you need as evidence in excusing the horrible blunder that you and Mr. Stone's team committed last night." He looked straight towards the Boy Wonder. "As a matter of fact, I was re-acquiring a few..._commodities_ that I had lent those swindling saxons of the underground a few months ago."

Robin raised a Vulcan eyebrow. "I thought it wasn't your _style_ to make shares with those two gangs."

"Why else do you think I am drinking?" D-Cube hiccuped.

"..."

The mountainous man sighed. "You come here, accusing me of maliciously employing the use of extraterrestrial technology, as if I am some hairbrained eccentric from Metropolis? Robin, you should know by nao. I do not do business with anything that I have not built out of my own bare hands." He shrugged his cast-arm. "What's left of them, of course."

"You're expecting me to believe..." Robin paced across his side of the room, steely eyeing D-Cube the whole time. "...that while the Underworld is reflexively biting Cyborg's team in the butt—You've been sitting here in Rupert Thorne's mansion, scott free of any involvement in what could very easily be an imminent power collapse?"

"A smart man is cautious, a dumb ox is greedy." D-Cube's smooth brow furrowed. "I've suffered many a bruise from you and Cyborg, Robin. But it's far from a loss. It may please you to know that I want _out_ of anything the Neon Hand and the Dead Men are plotting."

"So the Underworld _is_ up to something..."

"Robin, whether or not this 'Underworld' at the receiving end of your ire exists, a man like me knows a sinking ship when he sees it." He pointed a brass-ringed finger. "But don't be so proud as to think that it's a direct response to the ambitious actions of Cyborg and his nubile team of misfits."

"Then what is it?" Robin spoke aloud, sharing his thoughts with the supposed devil standing a few yards from him in the spacious bedroom. "Infighting? A drop in drug shipment? A change in power structure?"

"It is simply history."

"History?" Robin blinked quizzically behind his mask.

D-Cube took a deep breath, leaned back, and uttered: "Jump City is nothing more than a cyclical carbon copy of its bigger neighbors. Gotham City went through this ages ago when psychopaths with gag bombs replaced mafia bosses. Central Ciy followed suit, with crimelords exchanging machine guns for high tech gadgetry and gaudy costumes. Finally, there is Metropolis—where there are more monsters in the sewers than there are fire hydrants in the street. When a City reaches its sophomore age, and the cost of business exceeds the blood of those who need to know the truth, it's time for a change. A revolution. A break in the circle."

"And what does this have to do with you?" Robin squinted. "Ready for an early retirement, D-Cube?"

"I would not give you the frustration nor the JCPD the pleasure." D-Cube hummed back. "I simply find it better to sit out a cyclone from the inside—than from the tumultuous edge." He gestured his good hand before the flickering mantle. "The Dead Men and the Neon Hand are ambitious. They're not afraid to go for the spin—But they're hardly in charge of themselves. Only pawns make up the spokes of some horrible, invisible wheel. I'm many things, Robin, but I am a servant to no one."

"A servant with many slaves at his disposal..."

"Please, wait until I'm finished before you dispense with the insults..." D-Cube murmured. His eyes hardened. "The fact of the matter is, Robin, I did not taint Kobayashi's convoy with your elusive alien toys from the Bay. And, for that matter, neither did the Neon Hand or the Dead Men."

"..._**what**_?" Robin hissed, leaning forward.

"Your incredulity betrays you, Robin. I'd imagined you would have been prepared for any eventuality before you came barging in on my rest home like a parademon with a stomach to fill."

"If you didn't try to frame Cyborg's team—and neither did the two prominent members of the Underworld—then who did?"

"Someone else. Someone nameless..." D-Cube spoke mystically through the shimmer of the firelight. "Someone whose identity I would have to sacrifice too much, expose too much, to learn more about—So I don't bother. I want out of this twisting nether of pretense that churns at the heart of Jump City, awaiting the likes of your team, Robin." His mahogany eyes burned with the amber of the room. "And believe me, Robin. The maelstrom so _eagerly_ waits for these new superheroes, the whole seven of you."

Robin sighed. "I did not come here only to be presented with an obscure curtain of paranoia and-" Robin froze in mid-sentence. The Boy Wonder's face drifted through the flames, curved about the words of D-Cube, and flew back around to slowly look up at him, mesmerized. "Wait." A gulp. "Did you just say _seven_?"

D-Cube slowly nodded. "Seven, Robin. Seven adventuresome, foolish souls nao infect this City, defending the pathetic artifice of 'justice'..."

"Then..." Robin's eyemask narrowed in a cockeyed fashion as he shook his head. "You must mean-"

"And no, I do not refer to the oddly dressed urchin who joined you and Cyborg in briefly purging the cancer you found in Stone Industries." D-Cube slowly, limpingly paced across the fireplace. "You _know _whom I refer to. And yet you don't. None of you have any clue who's danced in the shadows while you and the other five have floundered in the light."

"I..." Robin murmured, suddenly afflicted with bloodloss on one side of his body. As he pivoted to face the shifting D-Cube, his left gloved hand lingered on the seventh pouch from the center. "...I have no idea what you're talking about..."

D-Cube's lips formed the faintest wireframe of a smile. "You're good at injuring people, Robin. But you're not so good at lying—Unless, _hrmmm_, of course, you consider that a noble injury unto yourself."

Robin gaped...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Cyborg sat behind Madeline, hunched over in a chair, rubbing his chin with a metal thumb and forefinger, hung somewhere between 'bored' and 'thoughtful'.

The recorded clip of the two gangs' conversation looped over and over again. Sometimes at regular speed, other times at chipmunk obscurity. Finally, Madeline pooled through the clip one last time, at a snail's pace, with every voice a stretched bass of indiscernible audio gravel.

Cyborg had spent the last hour stifling it—but finally gave in. He yawned. But as he did so, stretching-

"Eureka." Madeline droned. "Hello, pretty bird."

Cyborg clamped his mouth shut, shook the second half of the yawn out his popping ears, and stood up behind her. "Ahem...Uhm...'pretty bird'?"

"Sorry." She murmured through a small victorious grin as her fingers gripped tight to a particular length of audio, represented texturally on the black mat before her. "A personal catch phrase."

"Do tell."

"Ages ago, when I first started 'reading' sound bits like this, I finally memorized what the mating chirp of a blue jay _felt_ like. Heh...ever since, I say the same thing everytime I find something awesome."

"You should have your own television show."

"What for?" Madeline chuckled. "Would I get a seeing-eye dog to fart in place of a laugh track?"

"Just tell me what you found already!" Cyborg groaned.

"It took me a while—Mostly because I had to check over and over again to make sure I wasn't imagining things..."

Cyborg blinked curiously. "It's that crazy, huh?"

She tapped at a keyboard. "See for yourself!" She pointed in the general direction of the visual monitor as a particular stretch of the the clip was highlighted.

"Oh, is this what you were onto—like-an _hour _ago?"

"Do you want my analysis of the sound anomaly or not?"

"Fire away, Maddie! _Dayum_!"

"At about three minutes and twenty seconds in—There is a massive change in acoustical frequency. It's almost as if someone's kicked a sonar detector and kept it bent at an angle."

"I know for a fact that the listening device that Raven and Stargirl were using was faultless. I test the stuff out every other day. It's the most spotless device I have in my inventory—And that's _pretty dang_ spotless!"

"Well, the device picked up this acoustical variance—And it stays _absolutely constant _until about fifteen minutes and forty-two seconds later."

"Just before the meeting ended?" Cyborg asked.

"More like _immediately after _the head representative of the Neon Hand said his final dictation. Everyone was getting up after that. This acoustical variance ends right between the last word and the shuffling of everyone's feet."

"And after?"

"The frequency is identical to just prior to the variance."

"But...But then that must mean-"

"There were sixteen people inside the room before the anomaly..." Madeline tilted her head his way. "...but then there was a _seventeenth _body once it started."

"And...then back to sixteen people..." Cyborg murmured aloud. "...just as the Neon Hand dude broke it all up."

"Yup."

"... ... ... ...what the _heck_?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Do you honestly think that you and the other six have been alone all this time, Robin?" D-Cube stood in the far corner of the bedroom, bathed in the shadowy penumbra of the fireplace's glow. "That all these months, as the City choked in on itself and spun its invisible circles faster, that you and Cyborg's team were the only newcomers to try and stake a foothold?"

"..." Robin stared at him, past him, adrift in his helpless thoughts.

D-Cube nodded: "Three months ago, an entire extraterrestrial _battleship_ fell into the Bay water that embraces this City. Nothing that cataclysmic and wild happens without attracting more than a few unsavory moths to its curious flame. As much as the 'Underworld' is chomping at the bit to grab treasures from the depths of the murky water, things—_meddlesome things—_are utterly bound to come bubbling to the surface to challenge such a frothing market. Hao ironic; that someone as deeply complicated and methodical as you can't open your eyes to see what's already twisting apart the City you're so desperate to deliver justice to."

"You're trying to distract and confuse me, D-Cube." Robin suddenly spoke in a stern voice, frowning. "I did not come here to be thrown into a cyclical maze of heresy and supposition-"

"Of course you didn't! You came here for answers! And I've given them to you, though you've given me nothing but more headaches." He sighed and bowed his head somewhat. "You have my word that I didn't have anything to do with infecting Kobayashi's caravan. Someone else must be responsible for attempting to frame you. And though your next instinct is to investigate the Neon Hand or Dead Men for the source of your 'Gordanian radiation', save your breath. You'll find many things in their dirty hands—but it won't be the truth."

"And what..." Robin rolled his eyemask'd gaze, set himself up for the inevitable, and finished: "...pray tell, _is_ the _truth_?"

"The truth is that there're more people who want you out of this City than myself and the Underworld. And if you're so desperate to find out who's responsible for blemishing your team and all they've fought for, you'll have to go deeper than me, deeper than them, and deeper than your comprehension...Into the _shadows_ of the Jump City's mechanisms...the _shadows_ of the _Circle._"

"I've been in those shadows before," Robin said.

"Not this deeply enough, you haven't..." D-Cube said. "Not you, not your team-...but the _other one_ has been, even going so far as to make a home out of the darkness. If I was one to leap upon suspicion, living off the rumors of the street, learning from the horror stories of the alleyways, then I'd say you've got a lot of catching up to do. But you're doing none of it by standing here, and pestering me. And you know it."

"..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"But sixteen people were counted going in..." Cyborg said, rubbing the human side of his head as he stared over and over again at the visual monitor with twitching eyes. "...and the _same_ sixteen were counted as coming out!"

"Did Raven sense someone else while she and Stargirl were monitoring the conversation?" Madeline asked. "A _seventeenth_ someone?"

"No. B-But why? What does this mean-"

"What do you think it means?" The Kobayashi heiress exclaimed. "I'm telling you, an extra body appears about one sixth of the way into the recording, occupies space, distorts the acoustics of the room with its dimensions, and exits promptly before the gang members do."

"Just like-" Cyborg made a metallic snap with his fingers. "-_That?.!_ Someone slipped in and out without any of us knowing?"

"There was no movement prior to or after the acoustical anomaly..." Madeline murmured. "And you obviously didn't observe any extra person." She smiled helplessly, slightly excited by the curiosity of it all. "If I didn't know better, Victor, I'd say that someone literally _teleported_ into the room and _teleported out_...Right under your team's very noses."

"...but wh-who...And what for?"

Madeline blinked into nothingness, and slowly, daintily shrugged.

"..." Cyborg rubbed his chin. He squinted long and hard at the frequency data on the monitor.

The thin line of the mysterious anomaly peered back at him. Silent. Like a mute shadow.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The sun had set. Stars were starting to peer out over the rooftops of Jump City.

Once more, Robin found himself situated on the top of a random, run-down apartment rooftop, utterly alone, utterly silent. After a rich, full day of discoveries and answers, he found himself teetering on the great gallows of confusion. His hair and cape fluttered in the wind as the Boy Wonder's frame stood resolute against the breadth of the City, spinning dizzy circles beneath his exhausted figure.

The seventh pocket from the center of his utility belt was open, and his gloved fingers stroked the scratched and knicked contours of the dark shades in his grasp. He flapped the ear rests of the glasses a few times, open and shut, open and shut, and still.

"..."

A sigh, Robin pocketed the shades away, tilted his body towards the obscure location of Phaser Labs—hidden beyond the skin of urbanity—and fired his utility belt.

"Not enough hours in the day...Damn it all..."

And he jumped.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

That very same night, Garfield returned home from a long day of his own. He passed by a blonde and an amber-skinned redhead munching in separate corners of the Bunker's kitchen space.

"Hiya, Courtney."

"Hi there, Garfield."

"Hiya, Kory."

"Mmmff...Greetings, friend Beast Boy."

"Hiya, Raven."

Page flip. _"Don't interrupt me in the middle of Shelley."_

"**Goodnight**, Raven."

_Schwissh! Schlump!_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Cocooned snugly within the eight-by-eight claustrophobic interior of his sleeping quarters, Beast Boy sighed. The green elf fwomped onto the edge of a bottom bunkbed and tossed his red-leather book of mystery into the corner. He sat on the edge of his bed, his resting arms dug back into a crumpled comforter, as he glanced forlornly towards the book, digesting the quiet confusion of anything and everything.

"..."

He glanced across the way finally, blinked, and exhaled sharply. "Awwww shucks..."

The target of his pained vision was an open laptop with a web cam positioned towards him, the light off.

"Dang it..." He rubbed his temples with a groan. "...forgot all about my _little project_." A long pause, as he sunk there on the bed's edge, not moving a contemplative inch. "...Nnnn_nnnghh! **Fine.**_**" **He finally gave in, leaning forward towards the laptop, plunking away at the keyboard, and bringing up a webpage. "If I want me some fans, I gotsta work me up some fans!"

As he plink'd and plunk'd away, a chat page appeared, entitled: 'Beast Boy's Super Awesome Live Stream'. As he finished one and a half last magical keystrokes—A blue light on his web cam lit up. His green eyes glanced aside, focusing on the chat board. He noticed its number of visitors: Zero.

"Mmmrff...Figures."

An electronic voice channeled from the laptop's speakers. _"Mmmrff...Figures."_ Replete with feedback.

"Ackies! Lemme adjust that-"

"_Ackies! Lemme adj-"_ He turned the volume off on his end.

"Eheheh..." The green elf sweatdropped. "Erhm. Hi there, dudes. Sorry I haven't had a live show in a while. It's just that things...th-things have been..." He glanced shiftly over his shoulders at the automatic doors to his Bunker room. "...r-really _exciting_, around here!" He brightened explosively. "Heheh—Not a moment's rest from _fighting crime!_ And all that. So, yanno, be easy on me for not updating or wutnot...And...Uhm...Well..." He smiled painfully, took a deep breath, and leaned back. "On to more exciting news, right dudes? So...uhm..."

He cleared his throat, stared deeply into the web cam, and pointed a thumb over this shoulder.

"I have this righteously wyrd thing on my butt..."


	4. It Hurled One Night

"Doc says it's nothing for me to be worried about."

Beast Boy said, shuffling things off his bed in a heap as the bright blue light of the web cam fixated on him from across the claustrophobic Bunker room

"Doc Hunnicutt, that is. Not a wyrd name at all, if you ask me. I still don't get the McHale's Navy reference—or just whatever the heck Courtney was talking about. Meh."

He cleared the bed of all debris and began absent mindedly straightening the sheets.

"Anyways—He says that it's a normal birthmark. But, _like_, since I'm always bouncing back and forth from animals—like from duck to tiger to snake to albatross—the genetic Lego Blocks inside me command my birthmark to look like the _Mona Lisa_ one second and then the _Last Supper_ the next."

Beast Boy pauses in the middle of making his bed to glance over his shoulder and smirk at the webcam.

"Well, heh, at least I'm not finding myself having to _use the bathroom differently _after each shape-shift. Eh? **Eh?**"

Silence. A blank chat room.

"What? Not even a titter? I-" Beast Boy glanced at the viewer count: _zero_. "Oh. Oh...Okay then."

The cold hum of the Bunker blanketed the air with a deep tonal absurdity. The green elf was suddenly very coldly aware of hao alone he was.

"Anyways..."

He bravely rambled on to the concrete bulkheads above him as he resumed making his bed. The words dripped out of him like upside down rain amidst the shuffling of his petite body about the cluttered interior.

"I guess it's just typical of me. Heh. Two awesome chicks take notice of a riddle on my rump and suddenly it weighs a million flippin' tons. I wonder if that happens to anyone else? You'll be walking on the street, minding your own business, and suddenly this gorgeous babe who's strutting up the sidewalk smiles at you and says you've got a handsome face. SO what? Do you go running to see if you've got _chin_ cancer or whatcrap? Heck no! Pffft...this is _so_ a job for Superman, or Oprah..."

He fluffed the pillow, groaned to himself, and turned about in a slump aimed at the webcam.

"Nnnnngh..." He rubbed his temple with two gnarled digits. "Come to think of it, I'm wrong from the get-go. I should say that _'one and a half'_ awesome chicks noticed my butt-Picasso the other day." He smirked in thought. "Courtney and Raven were around while I was exercising and...well...teeheehee...sweat _does _roll downhill. Heheheh-ahem, erm, so it seems."

He leaned back, arms folded as he balanced on the edge of the lower bunk bed.

"Courtney's totally an _awesome_ person, of course. A real girl-next-door kind of chick. I bet she gets that a lot—But what's awesome is that she doesn't seem to be the kind of person to take it the wrong way when she's called a 'girl next door', to her face even. Courtney's supportive, friendly, and she really _feels _for others, yanno?" He beat a fist against his chest. "She feels for people _right here_. Not like Starfire, of course—But not everyone is a Tangerinian—or whatever Starfire's people are called. Heh, I'm glad that Stargirl is on our team. Really glad. So, of course, I dun mind if she..." He wagged a pair of green eyebrows with an off-hand smirk. "...notices my _other_ _good side_. Heh."

A twisting turn of the next few milliseconds, and Beast Boy's face collapsed from warm and inviting to cold and bitter.

"But _Raven_...Oh Lord SPARE me!" He rolled his eyes, quickly turning about and furiously straightening a bookcase sandwiched between the lower and upper bunkbeds behind him. "She's cold, mean, snappish, unfeeling, stubborn, opinionated, and—on top of all that—her voice sounds like an impish love child between Gwen Stefani and that creepy dwarf woman in _Poltergeist_." He chuckled, rolled his eyes, and gluttered: "It's a shame really. Cuz she's not half bad to _look_ at. I only wish the main entree didn't come with a side order of cold shoulders; hold the mayo."

He paused in his ministrations to the room, jerking suddenly towards some unseen corner of the galaxy. He then frowned fiercely at the webcam.

"Do you wanna know what Raven said to me the other day? As we were just setting up to ambush gangs from the Underworld?"

The laptop stared quietly up at Beast Boy, waiting. Patient.

The green elf cackled: "Well, _lemme set it up for you!_" He made a camera frame with his opposite fingers and squatted before the cam. "I was posing in the alleyway, stretching my muscles, getting ready to charge in on the unsuspecting baddies—And Starfire and Stargirl were already chattering on and on about what _I thought _was an open conversation! So I stick in and say: 'Hey, babes, what should I charge in as first? A stallion or a bull'?"

The camera waited...waited...

Beast Boy howled "The freakin' warlockette hovers over and says _'There are no rodeos here'!_ Like, **dude**, what in the McNugget is that supposed to mean? I was just trying to live in the moment and she makes me look like a stupid little kid! And so, trying to keep things _light-hearted—_yanno-_to stay in good spirits_, I say back to her: '_Hey, if you're unhappy with the show, at least keep your head down so the other cowpokes can watch_'. And youknowwhatshesays? '_Why don't you make like a good clown and hide in a barrel until it's all over'_." He pulled at his fuzzy hair. "It was supposed to be _my joke!_ And yanno what's even worse? The _other girls laughed at what she said_ instead of my line_!_ Okay...I **admit it**. I wasn't _exactly_ Jay Leno on a good night—But the fact of the matter is that I started joking first—But then Raven, in all of her cold hearted holier-than-thou-ness, takes a joke that she absolutely hates, making no bones about admitting that she hates it, and yet the girl twists it around so that I'm made to look lame by the same joke I started—but she stole—and thus steals my thunder while striking me with lightning and coming out on top and _gosh __**dang**__ it all-"_

He slammed a fist down on the keyboard. _Thap!_

**Blip.**

The light on the web cam died.

The live stream ended.

"... ... ..."

Beast Boy got up, paced, paced, folded his arms, sighed, sighed, lingered, sighed again, paced yet again, paused, groaned, sagged his shoulders, rolled his green eyes, sauntered back towards the side of the bed, took a deep breath, reached a gentle hand forward, and lightly tapped the edge of the keyboard once more.

The web cam's light went back on.

_Blipppp-_

"RAVEN IS MY NEMESIS!" Beast Boy cackled into the feed. He ran a shaking hand through fuzzy green threads, groaning. "It's true! It's _so true!_ Superman has Lex Luthor. Batman has the Joker. Captain Marvel has Black Adam. And I? I have an underweight, overbewb'd, blue-hair'd Stevie Nicks ice princess with a gummy bear stuck between her eyes!"

He winced, his eyes clenching, as if swimming briefly through a migraine. He came through the other side with a much needed exhale.

"Whew, dude, did _that_ feel good to get off my chest. This was a good idea after all-" He stopped in mid sentence, glancing at the Viewer Count of the live stream's chat. ('Zero...') "Phweee..." A beat. He leaned back. "Anyways, so, like, yeah—Having her look at my butt is like being a sick toddler and having your mom stick a cold themometer up your—Er..." He squinted his green eyes. "Did I mark this web site as 'PG' or 'PG-13'? Whatever. So yeah...Funny hao neither Robin nor Cyborg have noticed my butt art. But, I guess that's fine. They're working _their own_ rear ends off, clamoring all over the City, trying to figure out just hao we all royally screwed up last night."

He started straightening more things—this time on the floor between his bed and the web cam.

"I dunno if they're having any success. But they sure as heck have been doing a lot more than I've been. Heh—Festering about, worrying over age old birthmarks, exercising for fights I may never get into with crime cuz this whole 'team' thing could come crashing down on us at any second. Did I tell you that when Cyborg went to the Jump City Police Department in order to propose a partnership in scouring the Northern District for drug runners—Commissionder Kneehouse turned him down? I mean—What the heck?.! Aren't we all in this together? I mean—sure—I know that the JCPD isn't officially endorsing Cyborg's team, but don't we have a common goal here? I'm no conspiracy theorist, but, I'm getting the strange feeling that the dudes in City Hall want us like they want Chinese SARs. And—heh—who can blame them, after all that's happened? But, still, it's not like we _meant_ to drop a huge flippin' space-lizard mothership into their Bay! Heck, if it weren't for the things we did that one night three months ago, those galactic gators would have turned this whole City to toast! And on top of that—_just what the heck am I doing here-?"_

He suddenly shoved all of the random bric-a-brac that he was straightening back into a miserable pile on the floor.

"-I'm not this cleanly! I used to live in hotels where the fungus grew more than my paychecks from acting gigs!" He groaned, kicking another pile of stuff slightly so that it toppled over. He leaned back, rubbing his chin with a finger while gazing somewhere beyond the web cam. "I...I'm beginning to get scared..." He muttered in a low, elfish voice—as if summoned from the deepest crevices of the ancient, forgotten earth. "I'm thinking that nothing is worth cleaning up. Not in this room, not in this Bunker, not in this City..." He glanced at the web cam once more. "Just...J-Just hao long do we have left until we're all kicked out for good? We're holed down here like a bunch of Ramones fans, but we can't find any amps to plug our uncle's guitars into. You can't make music if you ain't got the drooling fans to clamor over you. What are we hiding for? If we're all so desperate to make this City wanna have us, cheer for us—then why are we camped underground? Why are we afraid to see the Sun, for crying out loud?"

A sigh.

The elf hugged himself and squinted off towards the edges of the sealed doorframe beside him. "I hope Cyborg's company finishes that Tower of his soon. This City needs somebody to look up to. But, if you ask me, it's gonna take more than a fancy skyscraper. It's gonna take a miracle...a dang miracle...and until then, all I've got to talk about is my butt. Wooo...Go team. The Super Basement Kids."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Cyborg made the bend around the block, angling towards the long straightway that ran almost entirely under the highway overpass, highlighting the slummy border running between the Western and Central District of Jump City. A broken comet of street lights zipped across the windshield of the company SUV he was driving. His red eye strobed in the reflection of city store fronts. His human eyes was listless, tyred, unflinching.

Victor Stone had gone beyond a point of comprehension, and his stone-still lips mutely spoke the exhausting tale of an exhausted man having limped past his every exhausted end. The invisible mosaics of sound waves and audio frequencies danced before his hazy vision, strung between Madeline's murmuring words, until a hypnotic dullness lulled him to a deathly state, so that seemly nothing could stir him...

...that is, until he finally came upon the entrance to Phaser Labs. And then he stirred, stirred mightily.

"Aw Hell..." Cyborg's teeth showed as he sneered into the echoing confines of his lonely vehicle. "...you've gotta be kiddin' me."

As he drove up, the source of his frustrated befuddlement grew more and more detailed. About a dozen and a half Jump City citizens had braved the gray slime of night to position themselves around the concrete gates of Phaser Labs, and a good chunk of them were waving picket signs as they fervently chanted exclamations that neatly matched the slogans splayed across the posterboards: _'Go Away Teen Tragics'. 'Jump City. Not Justice City'. 'We Want Adults, not Youthilantes'. 'Stone Does Not Run this Town.' 'Teen Tragics Must Go'._

"Teen Tragics my Tragic Ass..." Cyborg grumbled to himself, using all the strength in his legs to keep from gunning the accelerator. Something deeply defeated inside his metal chest sighed, hard, and he cruised icily towards the front gate of the place as two security guards gently but forcibly ushered the protestors back to allow the SUV room. At the sight of the obscured superhero's uneventful entrance, the demonstrators appeared slightly taken back, but with each fermenting second that passed, the crowd drew thicker, braver, and their cries murmured louder—forming an echoing roar that rivaled the ever-throbbing rumble of the highway overpass that stretched overhead.

Cyborg rolled up to a guard post. Victor lowered the SUV's window down as the guard leaned in from the station and nodded. Cyborg planted a finger into his chest. _Whurrr—Click!_ An ID card slid out, which he held before the guard's view. As Cyborg waited for the man to scan his identification, the half-android's eye settled on a distant, invisible thought, curious as to hao things could come to this, that he'd actually have to be _carded_ for someone to recognize him—titanium features and all, and none of them too superheroic—before he could roll into his own HQ's garage. Superman was a tall, well-muscled caucasian with blue eyes and sporting a greasy hair curl—and yet even starving children in Ethiopia could recognize the icon in a single, transitive blink.

"Don't look so glum, Mr. Stone, sir..." The guard tipped his hat and smirked, for what it was worth. "They're just a bunch of crazies..." He motioned towards the brazened demonstrators. "Punks, really, no more than twenty of them."

"It won't be so 'crazy' the day they become _twenty thousand_..." Cyborg grumbled, slipping the ID card back, and driving forward through the opening-and-closing gate before the guard could so much as blink at that.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

In a deep, concrete-laden alcove, the asphalt outside Phaser Labs dipped into a basement-level garage. It was here that Cyborg parked his company vehicle. Stepping out, setting on the alarm and sighing, he trudged his titanium way towards the far door that led into the labyrinthal halls of the place and—in turn—the Bunker.

And rest.

"And just what kind of a word is 'Youthilantes' anyway...?" Cyborg murmured to himself, expected no answer, got none, and sighed with a bitter contentment as he shuffled onward towards the nearest door-

"_I imagine your day has been as productive as mine."_

"Snkkkt—Mnngh!" Cyborg froze in place, twitching all over. His right hand briefly _clak-clak-clakkked_ into a sonic cannon, then retracted into a limp fist. "Nnskkt...God..._Dammit!_" He sighed, spun around, and stared boredly into the shadows. "I suppose that's a remote possiblity.

"..." Robin emerged from behind a concrete pillar. "I spent all day roaming the City, tracing the path that Kobayashi's caravan took—both before and after our ambush over twenty-four hours ago."

"Yeah, and?"

"It wasn't easy. My findings found what we suspected—that someone had tagged the caravan with a Gordanian radiation signature to throw us off. But finding _who_ _did_ _it_ has been turning into a tricky prospect. Ultimately, I had to resort to interrogating a few contacts I had made in my months prior to forming the team."

Cyborg winced. "You didn't..._interrogate too hard_, didja, dawg?"

"No worse than I ever had."

"Oh, _that's_ reassuring. **Hnnngh**...Any success?"

"I've got very little concrete evidence to defend us," Robin said, but he stood resolute. "Still, if I trust my sources, then I think whoever set us up to attack the caravan isn't anyone we've suspected before. The answer doesn't lie in either the Dead Men or the Neon Hand. Someone else is _assisting_ the Underworld."

"Ding Dong Daddy?" Cyborg asked. "Your 'friend' and his Central District lackeys?"

Robin shook his head. "The man's cryptic. But D-Cube's not our culprit."

Cyborg sighed, long and hard. "Then who is?"

"You let me find that out for you. While you're working to save our public face, I'll be investigating some bigger game."

"Bigger _game?_ Man, like who?"

"Powers Inc. Wayne Enterprises. Lexcorp. Petracorp. The Westhaven Banking Consortium-"

"Man, no—Robin, listen..." Cyborg trudged a few steps towards the caped crusader, shrugging wildly. "Ain't we stuck deep enough as it is in all this? Must we start taking pot-shots at the big leagues? Even if someone in those circles _was_ harebrained enough to get sticky-footed with the Underworld, it'd take an **army** to bring them down! Man, we could _kill_ this team before it ever gets started!"

Robin's eyemask narrowed. "And this concerns you?"

"..." Cyborg took a deep breath. He glanced off, rubbing the human half of his skull. "Dawg, I may be made of metal, but it doesn't mean you can go pokin' into my wounds."

"Sorry." Robin said. "But if there's anything I've learned about today, it's that we haven't gotten deep enough to truly root out the Underworld. They're still the ugly carpet that's resting under our feet. And as long as we dance on the surface, they can pull the rug out and trip us onto our backs."

"As if that hasn't happened already..."

"You mustn't give up home, Cyborg." Robin said calmly. He gestured a hand out from the icy cocoon of his shouldered cape. "If anything, by following the radiation trail so closely, I have a legitimate case to make about an outside party having infected the Kobayashi entourage."

"Yeah...?"

"We can bring the evidence _I have_ found to Commissioner Kneehouse, Cyborg. Though I may not have the culprit identified—the fact that the convoy we ambushed had been tampered with by jerryrigged Gordanian technology should definitely be enough to make us blameless for what happened last night."

"Oh, yeah, Robin, about that-"

"I know that the Commissioner has been a tough person to deal with as of late—but trust me—we can convince her-"

"Robin-"

"Perhaps it will even convince Kensuke Kobayashi that it was through deliberate outside misdirection that we were led to attack his-"

"_Robin!"_ Cyborg exclaimed, a half chuckle. "I just spent all day chilling out with Madeline—yanno—_Maddie?_ Kobayashi's daughter?" He smiled. "She talked some sense into her dad. He's dropping any and all charges, dawg. We're off the hook."

"..." Robin stared. "... Oh ..." He blinked under that mask. "Well, in that case..." He icily strolled towards the faraway door. "I suppose I should get some sleep."

"Naw, _naw,_ man, **wait**." Cyborg stepped after him and placed a gentle hand on the Boy Wonder's shoulder. "Wait, Robin."

"...I'm waiting." The caped superhero made a great effort to not tyredly reel from the contact.

Cyborg gently smirked. "You did good today. I'm proud of you. I only hope you didn't _tear too much ass_ while you were tearing ass to get information for me."

Robin shrugged. "I possibly...may have helped a few disgruntled young street rats rethink their life." A beat. "And convinced a drunk or two to lay off the bottle."

"Sounds like a full, rich day."

"I know it may not seem like my investigation produced any fruit..." Robin murmured. "But I've been on this sort of a pursuit before. Cryptic clues provided by someone of the streets may not hold any weight in court, but they usually lead down burning avenues of opportunity, at least from where I come from."

"What kind of 'cryptic clues' are we talking about here?" Cyborg folded his arms.

Robin twirled to face him, slouching slightly from the weight of the day. "Ding Dong Daddy is insistent that there's another party at work here. Someone who doesn't represent either the Dead Men or the Neon Hand wants to make us look bad."

"And he or she orchestrated the replacement of the smuggled Gordanian tech with Kobayashi's entourage?"

"Whoever has that much power—To not have surfaced for all this time, even with the JCPD hovering constantly over this City—He or she must be skilled at the art of both persuasion and misdirection. Whatever the case, it's gotten D-Cube spooked."

"After what you did to the poor bastard—heh-I'm surprised he'd be scared of anything else."

"I mean it, Cyborg." Robin's eyemask glinted in the cold garage light overhead. "D-Cube is seeing shadows, a maelstrom of ghosts pulling at his organization from all sides in this City. He wants out. He's trying to play the waiting game—For something to happen. Exactly what, I don't know, but I doubt we have the playbook at our team's disposal."

Cyborg gave Robin a sideways glance. "I really _really_ think you should get some **sleep**, dawg. Maybe you can try to explain to me your findings again in the morning. There's something about the night that drags out the 'creepy gargoyle' in you Gotham folks, man."

"I don't believe in sleep." Robin nodded. "Only dopamine."

"Tell your hair that." Cyborg pointed with a smirk. "It'd be a shame in fifteen years to have people calling you the 'Trump Wonder'."

"Yeah..." Robin turned to leave, to retire...

But Cyborg reeled him back in a little with: "It'd interest you to know, though, that Madeline found something very wild today in the audio sample that Raven and Stargirl took of the gangs' meeting."

Robin looked back, head leaning to the side. "I thought you said that Madeline talked Kobayashi out of suing our butts off."

"She did more than that, dawg! She used them sexy ears of her and scouted out an acoustical variation during a good long chunk of the recording! A frequency analysis showed the distortion up in spades—You would never have guessed it; there was one extra person in the room during the time of the meeting."

"One...extra person...?"

"I can't _exactly_ explain it. Neither can she. But it's as if someone teleported into the room, hung out in the shadows, and skedaddled away in a blink before the meeting could finish."

"..." Robin stared. "...Well isn't that interesting..." It came out in a droll murmur.

"Yeah, I know, right?"

"..." Robin walked off. "Well, good night."

"Don't let the bed birdarangs bite."

"_Try harder to be original."_

"Heh, well, alright."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**Schwissh!**_

Robin strolled into his room. He pivoted about, he pressed a console on the wall.

_**Schwissh!**_ The automatic door sealed him inside his personal compartment within the Bunker. But he wasn't finished. His thumb fished around, pressing more buttons, more indentations on the wall pad. **_Schlock! Chtung! Sckkkkt!_** What sounded like half-a-dozen locks sealed into place, encapsulating the bird boy into a guilded cage.

He was as alone as he could afford to be there.

He swiveled about, exhaling the day out through worn-out nostrils. A cold, conrete, spartan room stared back at him. There was hardly a single possession to be found littering the place. It was all meant to be.

Robin first and foremost stripped of his utility belt as he shuffled across the small space towards a locker hugging the opposite end of the compartment. A pair of fingers found a locking mechanism on the locker door, struck a rapid ten digit combination, and unsealed the thing. _Clank!_ Robin opened the locker, revealing an exploding armory of birdarangs, throwing discs, contract bo-staffs, grappling hooks, chemical compounds, miniature computers, GPS systems, and a hundred other various tools—all forming an intestinal bric-a-brac of overexuberant Utility. As Robin hung the yellow tool belt within—alongside five other _identical _tool belts already hanging inside the locker—he paused in stringing the thing up, his thumb brushing up against the seventh pouch from the center.

"..." Robin's eyemask narrowed.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**(Three Months Ago.)**_

_The entire place was careening, barreling, plummeting out of control. Robin had to leap with every other step to avoid plummeting into a great metallic obscurity as what was once a wall had become a floor, and all the while-_

_Blue. A big **blue**, rippling. Straight out the windows of the hellishly plunging craft. Screaming towards them._

"_Victor, what did you do?" Stargirl's voice could be heard shrieking._

_Robin decided to answer for him. "What needed to be done!" He jumped, reached out, grabbed one hand onto the edge of a giant alien throne—and reached to his utility belt with the other glove. He found a grappling hook, and, in swift order, that grappling hook found the new ceiling. Pow—**Clank!** He reached a hand down towards anyone—everyone-"Grab ahold!"_

_A meaty green reptile suddenly slammed into the Boy Wonder's side, snarling, hoarsely exhaling an enraged expletive in some extraterrestrial tongue._

_Robin grunted, twirling—dangling above the maelstrom. In the fitful fling, he stared down past his aching legs, and saw a pair of black shades. Glinting. And wearing those shades, gasping, shivering, on the lopsided floor..._

_Someone looking back up with horror..._

_And yet, with hope._

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"... ... ... ..."

Robin took a deep breath, hung the utility belt, and started taking his boots off. One after another.

"Just because a blind girl and an dishonorable crime baron see you in visions... Doesn't make _you_ any more alive."

He slipped the boots—and finally his cape—into the metal compartment.

"...for that matter, nor does it make _me_."

And he shut the locker with a-

_**Clang.**_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Raven may be a distant chika with a snowglobe for a heart..." Beast Boy was lying on his back, reclined before the web cam. He turned the Titan Communicator over in his grasp, musing aloud to the utterly empty live stream. "But at least she's bearable. There were times back with the Doom Patrol when I swear I wanted to kick Negative Man where the bandages couldn't protect him. Ermmm—It wasn't so bad until I started getting older...and more of a smart aleck. Heh."

He smirked toothily and rolled the communicator down his forearm, bounced it against his elbow, and caught it back in his palm, repeating the casual juggle as he went on. Roll. Bounce. Catch. Roll. Bounce. Catch.

"Even still, Raven's only around—like-_ten minutes_ at a time. I swear, she's always got some place to go, every day, even in the sunlight. I just don't get it—someone who's that much of a joy-draining _shut in_ actually likes to _go on walks_ all the time! Where she goes on her daily strolls is up to anyone's guess. We've all joked about it—with even Cyborg himself suggesting she goes to the cemetery to refill on black blood. Heh. Nnnngh—I guess it's not so nice talking about someone behind their back. But the way she comes across—I don't think she'd even care. It's not like she'd ever give us the time of day. You try to say something nice to her, and she has some stereotypical slur of sarcasm to put you back into your uncomfortable little place. You know, come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen her sit down to _eat_ anything. That just further adds to my theory that she floats out over the rooftops of the City at night to feed on infants and pregnant mothers. Maybe if I poked my head out the door to check on her, I'd see her ripping her torso loose and sprouting wings. HAH! That's a pinoy joke-Ehhhh _**whatever**_."

He rolled, bounced, and **caught** the communicator one last time with a **snap**, suddenly smirking, and sat straight up in his bunkbed. "That reminds me of something the other day-" _WHAP!_ "Ow! _Dang it!"_ He rubbed his fuzzy head, sighed, and continued as he nao faced the web cam. "We were trying to save people from a burning building. It was in all the newspapers—A twelve story apartment went up in a puff of smoke and at least three dozen people in the top two floors were needing to be whisked away. Guess some kid learned the hard way that you shouldn't mirowave your science homework."

Beast Boy shrugged, then went on.

"Anywho, we came roaring in—all superheroically and dramatically and stuffily—and pretty much saved the day. Heh—Funny hao with all the crud that's happened as of late, people forget about some of the simple stuff...as if keeping people from _burning alive_ counts as 'simple stuff'. Whatever the case, I managed to get a family of four away from the fire. They got a grand view of town from the back of a giant, gliding pterodactyl. I should have charged them after their little kid gave a technicolor yawn all over my right wing as 'thank you'. Bnrnngh... Well. On my second trip back, I saw Starfire in full flight, carrying an elderly couple away with those mighty arms of her. Heh...total babe, Starfire, but so complex and interesting. She totally belongs on the cover of Maxim, but should be interviewed in Time—if yanno what I mean. But beyond all that..."

Beast Boy smirked and gestured with his hands before the laptop.

"Koriand'r has this...well...this _miniskirt_, ya see...And, dangitall if that thing has a mind of its own at times. I mean...erm...I'm her **teammate**. Not just that, but I'm her valued _friend—_at least I like to think I am. So, like...I would—yanno-_I would never **ever** _be so nasty and pathetic to have...eheheh..." He rubbed the back of his head and blushed under his green cheeks. "..._sneakadozenpeaksorso_. Ahem." He straightened up again. "But—"(BONK! 'Ow...dang it! Rrghh')"-even if I was so _lame_ to have given into such a carnal...uh...carnal-a-gasm, I've gotten over it. Cuz, well, you can't afford to be distracted in the battlefield, or the herofield, or the save-people-from-the-burning-building field. So, I don't think much of it—That is to say, I don't really take much notice anymore of Starfire...and...the...er..._flappage_ of her skirt. Just what is that thang made of anyways? The Fabric Softener Mines of Orion Prime? Feh—I've never asked her."

He rolled his finger in a circle as if he was telling himself to hurry up.

"And...and...yeah, so, we're saving people from the burning building—_SHE_ is saving people from the flames. And, like, she flies through this one breeze—a backdraft or whatever it's called—and the gust of hot air just erupts like a Hawaiian zit and WHOOSH-"

He brought both hands surging upwards towards the Bunker room's ceiling. He blinked.

"-Hello France! Hundred Years War, much? My my, the Versailles sure is _pink and lacy_ this time of year-"

He smiled innocently.

"I'm joshin', of course. Eheheheheh—Seriously, though. I swear, Cyborg was gonna have a metal vein pop in his head. I don't think he counted on our team providing a _flash...-_beyond one of Robin's C02 birdarangs. But that wasn't the _thick_ of it—**Heh**-I was coming down for another landing at about this time. And, like, there're these two high school dudes just _standing there...hands hanging by their sides...staring straight up into the event horizon of the miniskirt's supernova_. I mean—For real! _Dudes!_ _I get it! Lucky break—But the snapshot is over; Hello? Burning building beneath your pimply feet! An end to your life? Burning death? No more Tony Hawk reenactments or Battletoads prank calls?_ Hell—for all I know, they were the **ones** who **sparked** the arson to begin with. I suppose a miniskirt in the afternoon sky is worth bending backwards a _little—_so one couldn't help but imagine dirty schemes, wut—with the way they were just _staring—_for nearly half a minute—burning a hole straight through Starfire's...straight through Starfire's... ...ahem... ...burning a hole straight through **Starfire**."

He crossed his arms behind his back and leaned back, smirking.

"Well, we saved the day. And, naturally, it never hit the news nearly as hard as our Fifth Street blunder has. But I don't care what the mainstream media says. I don't care if they string us up by our entrails and force us to listen to Yanni. I've done my service as a superhero, and I have the likes of Starfire to thank for it. Both for her friendship, and for her friendly looks. After all, life is only complete-ONLY ever complete, with two things and two things alone."

Beast Boy winked towards the webcam. He said:

"Short skirts and explosions."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Nearly half an hour towards midnight...

Courtney walked the length of the Bunker towards the compartment where the washroom was housed. She was aching and sweating from a long day of standing in the laboratory of Phaser Labs upstairs, Cosmic Rod gripped hotly in gloved hand. The last eight to twelve hours had been an exercise in patience as Dr. Ray asked her to test her energy projectiles on every natural and artificial metal known to nerd-kind. She was too dutiful to quit early, too polite to confess out loud her inner desire to do just so. And nao, she was too exhausted to bother hating herself over spending a steamroller of a day avoiding the act of hating herself.

"Just...two more pages...of calculus..." Courtney bracedly murmured, clad unceremoniously in a t-shirt and shorts, towel slumped over a twitching forearm. She all but limped past the quiet doorway to Robin's room, the even quieter space to Raven's, and the gentle hum of Cyborg's laboratory. For some reason, she wore her sneakers and long socks, even for heading to the shower—it gave her footsteps an unnecessary, anticlimactic spring to her limp. When walking past Beast Boy's quarters—she briefly paused, curiously lured by the sound of a solitary elf's maniacal cackling, a cutely muffled voice from beyond the door. "... ... ..." She shrugged it off with a confused smirk, tossed a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder, and sauntered on towards her destination.

She reached the washroom door and was about to slap a tyred, withered hand over the adjacent console when she heard a disturbing sound from beyond the frame—something akin to a choking death rattle, blood curdling, and submerged in an inky bubble of pain and panic.

Courtney blinked. Her blue eyes narrowed as she craned her head towards the door. "Hello?" She uttered.

Silence.

"Hello? Is...Erm...Is this thing in use-?"

She heard it clearer this time, harder, neck-jerking. A wretching noise, high-pitched, like a dying kitten.

Courtney gasped. "St-Starfire!" She knocked on the door, panting. "Starfire, are you okay? What's the matter?"

"_Ngrkkkglllkkksptkkt..."_

Courtney dropped the towel, gasping. _It sounded like she was positively dying in there..._

"Starfire—Brace yourself! I'm coming in!" She exclaimed, planting her palm flat against the console. A buzzing sound. The automatic doors to the bathroom refused to open. Courtney tried again, again. More buzzing, buzzing—More nothing.

"_Nkkkktpssllkkkt...hrnnnggg..."_

"Hold on, K-Kory!" Courtney glanced around in desperation, then sprinted a single pace down towards an intercom. She pressed a black button on the wall speaker. "Cyborg. Victor, come in, please!"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_Ch-**Chtunnnng!**_

A thick cable plugged snugly into Cyborg's shoulder. The blue matter underneath his glossy metal 'skin' lit up brighter, strobing briefly, then dimming down to obscurity. His red eye flickered. The young man took a deep, sharp inhale—as if coming down the crest of a roller coaster—then relaxed like he always did in the end.

He pulled some slack on the cable, then tugged it for good measure. "Hrmmm..." Cyborg glanced down at his wrist and opened a panel. Within a black bar, several blips of digital text flickered, including a green power indicator that highlighted a flashing: '_14.12%_'. A few blinks later, and that '_14.12%_' climbed to a '_14.31_%'.

Cyborg shut the panel. The young man smirked slightly, tyredly, then turned about and paced across the metal length of his Bunker Laboratory, past a Frankensteinian metal slab, and towards an elaborate computer station, flanked with several dozen bits of tools and circuitry...

...then Courtney's voice crackled urgently over the speakers positioned at the top of the room.

"_Victor, come in please!"_

He blinked. He shuffled over to the intercom and flicked his hand to a black button. "Cyborg here. Courtney, what's the matter, girl?"

"_Are you plugged into the system tonight?"_

"I am nao."

"_Good! Quick—It's an emergency! Unlock the bathroom doors!"_

"Courtney, if you _really _can't wait, there's at least two toilets in Phaser Labs upstairs-"

"_No, Victor, I really mean it! I think Starfire's DYING or something!"_

"Whoah dayum! Unlocked it is!" His red eye strobed. A flicker to the cable he was attached to, some sparks, and-

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Outside in the Bunker.

_Whurrr-Schnkk!_

-the bathroom door unlocked.

Courtney swiftly palmed the panel beside the frame.

_Schwissh!_ The door opened, revealing a certain redhead, clad in wrinkled pajamas, collapsed before the toilet like a beached mermaid in a permanent slump.

"Unnnnnghhhh...K'norfkaaaaa..." She teared, sputtering. "It h-hurtssss..."

"K-Kory!" Courtney flew down by her side. "What on Earth is the matter?"

"What is on _your_ Earth is—_**URP**_-**precisely** the matter..." Starfire's amber face flashed green, _greener_, and she hovered a quivering chin just above the toilet lid. "Ohhhhh...I h-have met my nemesis tonight and it is most certainly cruel..."

Courtney glanced bravely into the toilet bowl, winced immediately, and squinted through one eye at the wilting Tamaranian. "Your nemesis is _chicken and rice?"_

"Nnnnghhh-**URRP!**" Starfire made to heave-

"OkayI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry..." Courtney squeezed the alien girl's shoulders with both hands. "No more talk of your nemesis. I didn't mean it! Honest!"

"Nnnngh...I-I feel so foolish..." Starfire moaned. "...this is the third time this week alone that I have..._nnnkkstt_...attempted in good faith to share of your daily consumption—_ohhhhh_—only for it to—_**urppp—**_consume _me_ from the inside out. Ohhhh-owwww..." She clutched her tummy and shut her eyes tight, green moisture forming on her lashes.

"Ohhhhh you poor thing..." Courtney cooed, shifting their weight so Starfire could lean against her. "It's gotta be hard figuring out what you can or can't eat on our planet."

"Nnngh...X'hal help me. It is the most challenging thing I have—_**Nkkklllt**—_endeavored to do on this spheroid."

"Didn't—like-Doc Hunnicutt draft you a list of 'okay foods' for your anatomy?"

"**URP—**I am most..._nnght_..." Starfire fought to speak between wretches. "...grateful for the learned man's intuitiveness and compassion, but even he cannot anticipate every bit of my Tamaranian d-d-digestive—_**URP—**_system. Ultimately, it comes down to the 'pot of the luck'."

"Well, scratch your last 'nemesis' off the list!" Courtney rubbed the small of Starfire's back. "Maybe tomorrow you and I could try and fix you up something that's like what you've got at home?"

"A m-most noble and generous—_**Nkkktllppp—**_offer, friend Stargirl...but hardly probable."

"But I would like to try..." Courtney smiled.

From outside in the hallway, Victor's voice drifted in. _"What's going on in there? Is everything all right?"_

"It's okay, Vic!" Courtney called back through the doorframe. "I've got a handle on it!"

"It is most certainly _not_ okay..." Koriand'r grumbled, eyes rolling in waves of nausea. "I am helpless to find a c-comfortable and unassuming niche to fill in, and the b-best that I can accomplish is yet another night of digestive afflictions." She swallowed something solid down her throat and glanced thinly at the Star Spangled Kid. "Is it s-such a crime that I j-join you and my other f-friends in the simplest and most innocent of daily consumptions?"

"Not if it reduces you to _this_, Kory!" Courtney looked sad. "Stop worrying so much about fitting in with the rest of us and concern yourself with getting two feet on the ground!"

"Nnngh—Please, cease and decist from—_**URP—**_speaking of _balance_..." Koriand'r's emerald eyes rolled.

"Er...S-Sorry...eheheh..." Courtney sweatdropped.

"_Just what are y'all doing in there?"_ Cyborg's voice drifted closer.

"Hey!" Courtney spun with a frown. "Two _girls_! In a _bathroom_! Get a **clue**!" She shifted, kicked the wall console with her good foot-_WHAP-_and closed off the sound of his voice. "Boys."

"I am..._Nkkksti_...unaware of his transgression for b-being male."

"Not for long, you won't." Courtney cradled Starfire from behind. "There, there. This has been a tough time for all of us. If you have to let it out, then let it out. Heck, with the way things have been, I almost feel like joining you."

"**URP!**" Starfire briefly lurched, shuddered, swallowed, and murmured: "I sincerely do believe that you h-have made a deliberate exagerration..."

Courtney chuckled lightly. "Well, _yeah_. But I don't want you to feel bad for...erm..._feeling bad_. We have all the time in the world for you to recover. Don't let Cyborg or this team have any affect on you."

"Unnngh...X'hal, this _team_..." Starfire shuddered. "Sometimes I venture to think that my faith is just as indecisive as my...my..._**urpp**_...stomachs."

"Yeah well-" Courtney blinked hard. "Wait, did you just say _**stomachs**_?"

"All nine of them..." Starfire winced. "Nnnngh...though that is h-hardly a permanent number...in the history of my people..."

"Oh Kory..." Courtney exhaled. "Is there _anything_ I can do to make you feel better?"

"Of th-that..._**SNkkti**_...I-I am most doubtful. But, nevertheless..." The Tamaranian looked over her shoulder with a weak smile. "Would y-you do me a most sp-splendid favor?"

"Yes? What's that?"

"Would you gingerly grasp ahold of my hair for the next forseeable length in time?"

"Huh? You want me to—OH. Ohhhhh..." Courtney bit her lip, smiled heroically, and held Starfire's red fountain of follicles up in two brave handfuls. "Hao's this?"

"Much thanks, dearest friend." Koriand'r smiled angelically, turned her head in a diving swoop, and made a grand organic confession to the bowl. _**"Hrkkkkkklllspppttt!"**_

Courtney winced, winced, but did her duty...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Cyborg's a great leader and all, but sometimes it's dang near impossible to hail him down and have a word or two." Beast Boy said. "Not like he's a _taxi cab_, or anything, but—yanno what I mean."

The green elf was reclined on his bed, thumbing through his enigmatic possession: the red leather book. His fingers absentmindedly flittered through the antique pages, looking for everything, looking for nothing, finding a great gray blur of indecipherableness inbetween.

"It ain't enough that Cyborg is part human, part robot, part badass, and part nerd..." The changeling's underbiting teeth showed through his murmuring lips as he dictated off-sidedly towards the live stream. "...but he's also part Victor—public representative, part Mr. Stone—Industrial tycoon, part Vic—science and technology instructor at Stonetech." He shuffled through the pages, sat up a bit, and squinted towards the webcam across his quarters. "With all of those responsibilities, isn't it kind of super crazy amazing that he actually finds time to run around in the streets of Jump City as a mechanical butt-kicker with the likes of us?"

The blue light of the webcam stared back at Beast Boy, unblinking. The laptop's bright splash of the website lingered, the viewer count ever a lingering: _zero_.

"Yeah, well, it's all way too less Cyborg _the robot hero_ and way too much Cyborg the _financial bore, _if you ask me." Beast Boy laid himself back again and thumbed, thumbed, thumbed through the mysterious red book. "I mean, heck, I know the metal dude's got _stuff_ to do. _Stuff _for the _team_, even. But why can't he—like—leave some of that for the older and more boring people he's got in the higher offices of his company? Like that 'Hardy' chairperson lady..._or wait, was it 'Sherlock'?"_ The elf shrugged. "All I know is that, three months ago, I came to this City, and found myself standing side by side with a pretty wicked robot—a robot with a sense of humor, a robot with a great taste in music, a robot who wasn't afraid to toss lizard alien psychos around with one hand and count off Warp Trek trivia with the other. I'm sure, in all of that complicated mess that is our team leader, that same robot can still be found. But—_dang it all—_it's so fluffin' hard to see him through the whole mess! Everything he's doing for the team is great, but even a machine has its limits—I can't help but wonder if he's getting sick of it too. But, what can I do? What can anyone do? Is there a book written that gives advice on hao you approach a walking tank with hormones and ask it to take a chill pill?"

He smirked briefly over towards the web cam.

"Oh, heh-heh, that _reminds_ me."

He raised the red bound tome in his grasp.

"I bet y'all are wondering exactly what this is..."

He squinted once more at the laptop. Viewer count: _Zero._

"Hrmmm...Yeah, _y'all_..." He sighed. A beat. He shrugged it off, cleared his throat, and continued in a renewed smirk of enthusiasm. "This is something I picked up during my world-wide trek over the last three months. Well, it'd be _unfair_ to say I **picked it up**. More exactly, it was _tossed _into my lap, kinda sorta. You see, I was in Antartica—_that's right, Ant-fricking-artica—_and I was going all Solid Snake on this crazy place full of ebil henchmen and-"

He suddenly winced, slapped a fail!palm over his skull, and exhaled long and hard.

"Eesh...Yeah. Almost dug my own grave there. Ahem." He sat up a bit and stared at the webcam with bored eyeslits. "Cyborg, in all his infinite stiffness that pretends to be 'wisdom', has requested I not talk in any great detail about what I've been up to over the last three months. Those of you, of course, who were lucky enough to be watching my super-awesome-live-stream several weeks ago—_before_ I made this 'contract' with the biggest walking refrigerator in Jump City—might know more about my adventures and kick-buttery. _Eheheh...I said 'buttery'._ _**Ahem**_. But, for the rest of you, just believe me when I tell you that the kind of things I got involved with over the last few months have been...well..._complicated_, to say the least, but really nifty and hell-yes-able all the same. But, yanno, that's the way things are. You turn an awesome page in your life, you move onto the next chapter, and you gotta pay a heavy price to publish your older works...if that makes any sense. ANYWAYS-"

He slapped a green hand hard across the cover to the red binding.

"SOMEBODY who may or may not be HUMAN gave me this SOMETHING which may or may not be a BOOK which I may or may not have said THANK YOU for which may or may not have been a great lapse in my CHARACTER because I usually don't accept things that don't have a DVD MENU in them. On top of that, the said person who gave me this may or may not have been named ZOEY and may or may not have been ASSOCIATED with someone who may or may not have been named RAZZAR and as a matter of fact none of this matters because I certainly MADE UP at least one of their names on the spot and it may or may not be 'ZOEY'."

He exhaled long and hard, thumbed through the pages, swiveled his legs out on the side of the bunk bed, and held the thing out closer to the webcame.

"But enough of that stuff." He sat up straight. "Do you see the-"(BONK!)"-OW! _Dang it_—Ahem. Do you see the nifty runes and stuff? Pretty crazy, huh? I think this was Tolkien's bathroom reading material or something. The pages are made out of really old paper—but they don't tear easily...erm..._not that I tried_. _So sue me, it was late one night and I was in a bad mood and the freezer was all out of waffles and the late night airing of Dr. Who on BBC was replaced with a Soccer game_. Anyyyyywhoooooo, the thing is—_like_—two hundred pages long. There are nearly one hundred characters to s page. I know; large font. I wonder if it's some sort of alien poetry—_erm, not that it's in any way associated with aliens or wutnot—_But the runes don't look like anything I've seen before. And, believe you me, I've gotten pretty hardcore about looking up stuff about this. Nothing in the library matches, nothing on Google matches—I've even taken Courtney's suggestion and tried this boring-as-hell website: '_Wackypedia'_ or something, sounds like an illegal web page if you ask me."

He went on:

"Anyways, _nothing_ shows up that even resembles the letters and things in this book—just a bunch of loose ends, and I don't mean the awesome kind of loose ends you see on swimsuit'd chicks suntanning face-down at the beach. Still, though, it _is kinda_ like this thing I read about during my search: _The Voynich Manuscript_. At some point in the early twentieth century, some dude found an old, old book full of wyrd-A letters and pictures. Scientists carbon dated it and found that it was at least five hundred years old. The level of detail in the manuscript is crazy as heck, but none of the letters or words or sentences have any match in the whole world's library of languages, and none of the geeky college professors out there with a lick of sense can make heads or tails about it. Call me a sap, but I find that kind of stuff _exciting_. I mean—to have a book, one book in a trillion, and to have it not make any sense, and yet so detailed and complicated that it's _gotta_ make sense to somebody, yanno? It's as if the book is _waiting_ for _someone_ or _something_ to stumble upon it, read it, and somehao make sense of the crazy cryptic-a-con. Things like that make me giddy inside. I almost believe that there are such things as wizards and sorceresses...Pfft, _what am I saying, _of **course** there are wizards and sorceresses—the Doom Patrol fought one of them every laundry day. But, _you know what I mean._"

Garfield thumbed, thumbed, thumbed through the pages, paused, sighed, then slumped back to his side on the bed as he laid the book down beside him.

"Hrnnnngh...I guess...er...I guess the _real_ reason I dig this book, is that it reminds me of an adventure I've been on, an adventure that I'm not even _allowed_ to talk about right nao, and I'm not allowed to talk about it on behalf of a team leader—who's really awesome—but is so wrapped up in all of the crazy legal ugliness of trying to be a hero in a City that needs us, that I'm beginning to wonder if he or I or anybody will ever have time to be a hero in a City that needs us to begin with!"

His bored eyes drifted sluggishly across the room, strung up in a dry niche between sad and comfortable.

"Months ago, when I met all of these snazzy people, I was excited. Before I met them, before I kicked ebil lizard tail, I was floundering on my own, limping around and trying to find acting gigs ever since things with Warp Trek fell out from under me, and here I had a chance to be part of a mega-bodacious superhero team for the first time since I, for whatever stupid reason, decided it was best to ditch the Doom Patrol. I felt like my second wind had come to me, that I was gonna be a different kind of butt-kicker than I had been before, that I could be more of...well..._more of an adult._ That I could speak for myself, say things for myself, and lend a hand to a team of heroes—_not because I owed them—_but because I _wanted _to, and they happened to need the things I could do for them."

He gestured to the air between his sideways body and the webcam.

"And then, yanno, when we split up, and I was out on my own—riding the wave of _awesomeness_ that comes with saving an entire City full of people—I felt good. _Really_, I did. I felt super-crazy-good. And then when things went _wyrd—_and I do mean _really wyrd—_as I bounced around the world, doing stuff that...well...let's just say I was doing _really nifty_ _stuff—_I felt good as well. Heck, I felt _awesome_. It was like I was my own Batman...or Green Arrow...or Green Batman. Whatever. I could take care of myself. I just didn't know the direction I was supposed to be taking with things. So, I came back here—back to Jump City—thinking the others might be here again. And, sure enough, they were. And...and..."

He hugged himself, a sudden, warm breath. He grinned.

"...And they were all there. And, _dude_, it felt like frickin' _destiny_. You know that goofy, grinning, butterfly-in-the-stomach giddiness you get when you sit down to a Disney movie you used to watch as a kid and realize in all sappiness that it still makes you feel as happy and childish as it did back when you used to shove cereal up your nose? Well, it felt like _that_. And _that_ is something worth fighting for, besides saving the lives of citizens and innocent people, of course."

A deep breath, Beast Boy turned onto his back and picked at the bottom of the top bunk above him. He murmured:

"Well, that was three weeks ago. Three weeks, I've been riding this wave of giddiness. Three weeks, I've been occasionally beating up bad guys, every nao and then saving families from crumbling buildings. Three weeks, and—to be honest—not a whole heck of a lot of things have happened. Cyborg has us sitting down here, educating ourselves on superhero etiquette, doing random training sessions, zapping metal chunks with cosmic rods while a muppet bearded guy in a labcoat goes on and on about numbers and all that—And the biggest and most remarkable thing that happens—the _only _thing that happens_—_is we _screw up and attack a rich dude's innocent shipment of Newsroom junk._"

Silence. The webcam's glow lingered on. Beast Boy looked over boredly at the laptop, the viewer count, the pointlessness of having a viewer count.

He murmured: "When is a giddy idea just that? _A giddy idea?_" He propped his head up on an elbow. A sickly smile. "Hao long do you ride a feeling until you realize you've used up all the gas for nothing and should pull over the side of the road—or worse—double back and return home?" He rubbed his temples. "Nnnngh...There were days, back with the Doom Patrol, when I was a much more _boyish_ Beast Boy, that I would turn into a hawk and just **fly**. I'd take off from the rooftop of Dr. Caulder's castle, pick a cardinal direction, and just _soar_, not looking back. I'd start in the wee hours of the morning, get a good headwind, and leap into the bright crest of the starting day. Hours and hours would go by, during which the German Black Forest would stretch out below me, seemingly endless. But, everytime, without fail, the sun would rise up until it was directly overhead, and it'd become noon, and it'd become _**hot**_, and—as always—my tyredness with the whole trip would become bigger than the giddy impulse I had first felt that very morning before the sun came up, and instead of going on further to see when the forest ended, I'd just double back and return back to the castle. Sometimes I got yelled at. Sometimes nobody cared. In the end, it didn't matter—I always felt like I could never get away from myself, get away from the fact that..._heh_...I could only live in the **moment**, without believing in the **moment's tomorrow**."

He bit his lip, gulped something painful down, and squinted towards the camera. He spoke in a low voice—neither breaking, nor crumbling, just subterranean, like the concrete walls around him: settling.

"That's what our team is. Really, I think—_no—_I **know**. That's what our team is: a moment without a tomorrow. And, god help us all, something's gotta change, something's gotta upset the rulebook, something's gotta slip in a wildcard or slap the joker or scream 'go fish'...or else this bird isn't gonna clear the forest. Not in a long shot."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Starfire was still, her green thin eyes still sickly wafting wispily above the fermented waves of consciousness. But she was relaxed, she was tranquil, and she was most certainly _not_ emptying her nine stomachs' worth of sorrow into a linoleum deposit box.

The Tamaranian girl was lying back in a comfortable bed inside a relatively barren room of the Bunker. She was not alone—a certain Courtney Whitmore was in the process of drawing a lavender sheet and a pink comforter over the recovering redhead.

"There you go...still dizzy?"

"To a certain degree, yes..." Starfire swallowed an imaginary lump down her throat and hoarsely uttered. "...but I am feeling much better. Infinite gratitude, friend Courtney..."

"My pleasure." The blonde smiled.

"I am most remorseful over having interrupted you. I am certain you had something important or leisurely planned for yourself during this time of fallen sunlight."

Courtney shrugged. "I had only planned on showering." She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked down at Starfire. "At this point..._heh_...that plan hasn't changed at all. So...uhm...don't sweat it, 'Kay?"

"I concur..." Starfire nodded sickly, tyredly blinked her eyes, and nestled herself comfortably within the folds of the bed she had been laid down in. "Mmmmm...I really, _really_ must find an alternative form of sustenance soon, or else I will be a weighted disadvantage to the team with my constant indigestion."

"Yanno, not to scare you or anything..." Courtney pushed a golden lock over her ear and fidgeted. "But...I-I'm kinda sorta amazed you've done as well as you have since you've returned to this planet."

"Truly?"

"Yeah. I mean—If I was to settle myself down in an alien world, I'd imagine that I would open myself to all sorts of foreign diseases and bizarre germs and crud that I would want to have _nothing_ to do with. It seems positively _frightening_. But here you are, in one piece—eheh—_more or less._"

"The Tamaranian immune system is a thing of Vegan legend." Koriand'r managed a smile. She closed her eyes, exhaled long and hard, and winced ever so slightly. "I only wish the same imperviousness applied when it comes to our palette."

"I think it's the warrior in you." Courtney smiled. "You can fight off all kinds of things that can kill you, but gotta _rought it_ through the things that can't."

"I am sure that there is a sensible logic to that statement but I am currently at a loss to grasp it."

"Hehehehe—That makes the two of us." Courtney shrugged. "Still, the offer stands. I'd like to work with you and Doc Hunnicutt and find something _you can _eat without going all Linda Blair on us."

"If I understand your obscure but poignant metaphor, then I hope that my Linda-Blair-ing has not been a great deterrent to your positive perception of me."

"Hao's that, Kory?"

"Not to brag, but I am usually a great deal stronger than this invalidic specimen you see before you."

Courtney shrugged. "Can't a girl get sick once and a while?" She smirked. "I swear, my _jewel_ of a stepbrother insists I get sick once a month."

"I have spent nearly three solid weeks on this planet and that is the twentieth consecutive time that someone has brashly made a joke about a female's-"

"I know. I **know**. Hold you breath. That's hao our planet _deals_ with it." Courtney sighed. "Anyways—Star, don't feel bad. You'll feel great in the morning. I just know it."

"Your enthusiasm would normally be infectious, but I am afraid that I am currently incapable of sharing your ardent levity."

"Why's that, you think?"

Starfire bit her lip and clutched the sheets to her. "It is different—nao, on this planet—then it was when I first...erm..._descended_ upon this City."

Courtney blinked. "You mean...instead of blowing stuff up in the street and shouting in some alien gibberish, you're depositing all of your troubles into the toilet?"

"I used to be fearless in the face of things such as what is assailing our team presently." Koriand'r murmured. "It is not enough that we failed in the act of being superheroes the other night-"

"Heh, speak for yourself, Star."

"-but I feel as if our leader has already lost hope." Koriand'r squinted up at Courtney. "Am I alone in assuming that Cyborg is angry with us?"

The blonde did a double-take. "H-Huh? Read that by me again?"

"For an entire planetary revolution, Victor has refused sleep. He spent the entirety of the day away from us—barely even talking to Robin. I know that the man is busy and very much vexed with the multiplicitous complications of leading a team of metaphysically endowed youngsters, but does it not seem that he is more adamant about being _away from us_ than _with us_ during this time of great shame and confusion?"

"I swear, Koriand'r, the way you speak makes you sound positively like a poet." She leaned down and whispered. "But couldja try and be a bit more concise? My head broke at 'multiplicitous'."

"I believe that Cyborg is angry at us." Koriand'r went straight to the point. "And he is isolating himself from us so that we can linger in the shame of how we failed the other night."

"Oh, Star..." Courtney ran a hand through her own hair and sighed. "That's..._well_...that's just _different_."

"Hao so?"

"Victor is a _guy_."

"I fail to see what that has to do with this situation."

"Believe me, it has _everything_ to do with the situation." Courtney smirked slyly. "Guys don't handle making mistakes so well. When they feel guilty or inadequate, they go off on their own. It's a very...uh...obscure equivalent to an ostrich sticking his head in the ground, you know?"

Koriand'r blinked. "I am afraid that it is nao my cranium that has broken for lack of comprehension."

"Sorry-sorry!" Courtney winced, rubbed her chin, and thought aloud: "Uhmmmm." She brightened and pointed. "When...uh...an alien empire loses at a war, and then decides to ditch its...er...galactic allies, not talking to them except when it comes to trading...uh...galactic _spice_...That's understandable, isn't it?"

"I would imagine so." Koriand'r nodded with a murmur. "There is much pride to be had in a cosmic empire's integrity. It is only natural for a nation to withdraw in on itself, even at the behest of its closest aides, after an embarrassing defeat." A beat. Koriand'r blinked at Courtney. "Surely you do not mean to infer that a single Terran male possesses an ego that is naturally attributable to a cosmic nationality...?"

"The truth is stranger than fiction." Courtney shrugged with a smirk. "I don't think Cyborg knows hao much he could be making us feel bad by distancing himself."

"It seems a poor error of judgment on the part of a leader."

"He's our leader, yeah." Courtney nodded. "But he's still a guy."

"That seems hardly excusable."

"The best we can do, Star, is be patient—And give him our support."

The alien girl momentarily frowned. "Because we are his teammates? Or because we are female?"

"You know what?" Courtney squirmed on the edge of the bed and patted Starfire's wrist. "Forget I ever tossed _sex_ into the analogy to begin with."

"You are onto something, though." Koriand'r turned slightly under the covers, exhaling long and hard. "Cyborg has most certainly turned his distraught emotions inward. Does he not know that—by isolating us—he only harms himself?-And this team?"

"I'm sure he knows, Kory."

"But that is most senseless!" The Tamaranian exclaimed, coughed from the ordeal, and further wheezed: "Only someone who _desires_ more pain and failure would be so adamant about focusing on the brief yet all-too-real agony of one night's debacle."

"You seem pretty down in the dumps about it all yourself." Courtney said. "N-Not that I'm trying to accuse you of pulling a Cyborg or nothing..."

"You are not all too inaccurate in your assumption..." Koriand'r's eyes darted briefly to the side. She bit her lip and hesitantly admitted: "I too, like Cyborg, have found myself adrift over the past few hours, lost in this City. It is not that much unlike Raven and her mysterious treks—though I have persued my lone flights for the sake of introspection."

"Have you...uhm..." Courtney shifted about confusedly. "...been at all _successful_ with your...erm...'flights of introspection'?" A hopeful, braced smile.

"I...I b-believe the only accomplishment that I have made was that of a transgression."

"Eh?" Courtney blinked.

"...do you promise to keep a secret, friend Courtney?" Koriand'r looked vulnerably up at the blonde. "I have the utmost confidence in you to do so, if you are so willing."

Stargirl took a breath. She smiled warmly. "Of course, Kory..." She said gently. "You can tell me anything. I want to be here for you."

"I..." Koriand'r squirmed, glanced aside once more, sighed, and finally uttered: "I _intervened_...on behalf of a troubled citizen, earlier today, when the sun was still up."

"And what's so wrong about that?" Courtney shrugged. "We're superheroes. We're here for the City's protection." A blink. "Erm..._what kind of intervening?"_ She squinted suspiciously.

"It is first and foremost a matter of trust that I have built with Cyborg..." Koriand'r woefully murmured on. "...and I believe that I have maligned that manner of trust."

"Just tell me, Kory. I can handle it if you're willing to dish it out."

"There was this human couple—and they were in the throes of a terrible argument, when the male decided to force himself upon the female, against her consent."

"Oh jeez..." Courtney bit her knuckle, hissed, and grimaced. "That sounds horrible! Wh-What happened?"

"I..._intervened_ of course." Koriand'r said. Her amber brow furrowed momentarily. "He was shamelessly bent on harming her, in the penumbra of absolute sunlight, within earshot of the local populace. Her well-being was the least of his concerns, and he was attempting to fulfill his desires with her as a means of alleviating his frustrations in other departments of his ill-begotten life-"

"Yeah, well, rape is _rape_, Star. Don't bother explaining—What did you do to 'intervene'?"

"I flew down and stood in their presence. I attempted to intimidate the man from harming the woman. Admittedly, I even attempted to persuade him verbally of his wrong-doing. But he paid no heed to both my virtuous platitudes _nor_ my obvious metaphysicality. He attempted once more to hurt the girl, and I was forced to..._throw_ him."

Courtney blinked. "...throw him _hao far?_"

"Only across the length of a courtyard."

"_Only_? Like—hao big of a courtyard, Starfire?"

"Please! Allow me to relate the crux of the issue!" Koriand'r sat up suddenly, wincing in a brief dizziness, but continuing: "After I had dispensed with exhibiting my greater strength—it was only natural for him to express great fear and distress. It is our job to instill fear in the hearts of the depraved and criminal, is it not?"

"Er...kinda...I guess-"

"Well, I need not guess." Koriand'r's jaw was firm. "I feel the taint in the heartbeat of those who would wish to harm the good citizens of this City. It is very much liken unto hao I can feel your heartbeat nao, Courtney, within this very room—And it is a mighty, righteous heartbeat. You would want nothing more than to purify the lives of the desperate, to show them a greater and more rewarding light than they are afforded by the seedy rooftops of this vexed world."

"Uh...Wow. Sure, I, uh...Okay."

"This is no different than what I want." Koriand'r said, then sighed in a sorrowful slump as she lied back down into the bedsheets. "...and yet, I had failed."

Courtney raised a curious eyebrow. "In what way, Kory? You beat up a rapist. That's a victory in my book any day."

"He was not the only one to be horrified of me..." Kory sputtered, sadly, her green eyes limply tracing the concrete ceiling of that Bunker room, hidden. "But the woman I had saved—who just seconds ago was screaming for salvation from the cretin I had violently discharged—She, too, fled from me in horror. And then there were others-"

"Others?"

"_Spectators_, friend Courtney." Kory looked up at the blonde with a pained expression. "They were witnesses both to the act of cruelty of one human to another. And they were also witnesses to my action. The whole circle of molestation, intervention, and horror was nothing more than a spectacle of awe and wonderment to them—Something they had every opportunity to observe, but no declarative responsibility to partake in."

"That...well..." Courtney scratched behind her ear, eyes averting from Starfire's. "That's...uhm...tough, Starfire. But, you know, this is a tough world. And in spite of it all, we gotta try our best to-"

"We are **heroes**, friend Courtney." Koriand'r breathed, drowning out the hum of the Bunker around them, drawing the universe inward with a single, heated breath of earnest. "We are not mere monstrosities with the ability to destroy mountains. We are not gods placed upon this planet to control the waves of chaos by mere whim. We are meant to bring _joy_ and _comfort_ to a large amount of people whose rights as precious souls are truncated by the malicious ambitions of the **few**. Nao tell me, Courtney, hao are we to accomplish this when our most blessed aspirations and gifts are interpreted as the malicious vices we so desperately wish to diminish?"

Courtney bit her lip. She stood up from the edge of the bed and paced in front of Starfire, hugging herself. "It's...It's..." She sighed, pushed a lock back over her ear again and turned about. "It's a tough balancing act, Starfire. The way I've always seen it, I've got this off-switch inside me that I have to keep a finger on at all times. This switch controls my powers—And, like, I tell myself where to draw the line. And it's different in every situation. But, when I get it right—and it always takes _practice_ to get it right—it's worth the trials and tribulations, cuz then I find that perfect spot where I can _be_ a superhero and not freak people out, yanno? And as for becoming a 'spectacle'...heh...that's something you never quite shake off-"

"But Courtney..." Koriand'r breathed, looking wounded and helpless from where she curled under the covers. "...it is not the same for me as it is for you, dear friend."

"Why's that, Kory?"

"Do you realize—_truly realize—_hao strong I am?" Koriand'r remarked. Her eyes briefly shimmered in a distant fire, slowly dimming with each ensuing sentence: "I have had this discussion with Cyborg, though in another fashion. I do not possess the 'off-switch' that you speak of. I have flown, naked, across the cold vacuum of Space. I have sailed my body between the gravity wells of black holes, scattering and recollecting my molecules, like an earth fowl dives into a lake to come back up with a captured fish. I have hurdled myself through Apokolipton battleship hulls, alien mountainsides, and the coronas of stars. There is no way that I can keep my hands from crushing pure steel unless I _concentrate...and concentrate **hard**."_

Silence. Courtney had nothing.

Koriand'r sighed. "I have disobeyed Cyborg. I let an emotional whim—and my reliance on the sound of heartbeats hold sway over my better judgment. Where I could have left well-enough alone, I instead threw in an earth-shattering hand, and brought horror onto the afflicted."

"But, _Star_..." Courtney exclaimed and sat back down at the amber girl's bedside. "That guy was gonna _rape_ her! You couldn't have just done _nothing!_"

"Could I?" Koriand'r narrowed her eyes. "The history of your planet includes many accounts when a group of people—with the best of intentions—attempts to intervene upon another group, only to hurt them horribly in the end. Hao many religiously and ethically motivated crusades have only ended in the utter decimation of a noble culture?"

"Star—_Kory_-" Courtney vehemently shook her head. "Don't...Don't try to _analyze_ this situation like some alien tourist with an encyclopedia in her hand!" She blinked, then leaned over with a smile. "You've always done your best when you relied on your heart. Just what does your _heart_ tell you about what you did earlier today?"

Koriand'r glanced off. A gulp. "I...did what I did...with the best of intentions..."

"Starfire..."

"..." Koriand'r sniffed. Her eyes were moist. "I...I care for the people of this planet. I truly do. I do not want them to suffer..." She bit her lip—shaking a bit—and looked up at Courtney, a single tear rolling down her amber cheek. "I did not want her to suffer. And yet...even in spite of my greatest efforts...she _did_. Where is the gloriousness in that?"

"Oh Star..." Courtney reached down with both hands and grasped Kory's wrist from beneath the covers. She sighed, stroked her palm, and said: "Doing the right thing doesn't always win you a wreath of roses."

"But in attempting to tactfully use my strength, I only inflicted pain!"

"And you think pain is useless?" Courtney cocked her head to the side. "Sure, you may have hurt that jerk—and _royally_ freaked out the woman. Heh. But don't you think they might _benefit_ from it in the long term? Looks to me like you dropped the bomb on a really pathetic relationship that was better off _ending_ anyways."

"When we rationalize the 'necessary' distribution of pain..." Starfire's face tightened. "...does that not make us dictators?"

"..." Courtney glanced briefly aside, stirred, then bravely throated: "No."

"No?"

"Cuz you're more than that, Star. _**We're**_ more than that." Courtney stroked her hand and looked down at her. "We're accountable**. **We think, worry, and stress over everything we do—both the successes and the failures—the bright ideas and the stupid ones—And when we're accountable, we're not dictators. Heck, we're not necessarily _gods_, for that matter." She smiled. "More importantly, when we care about every little thing we do or say—off-switches or none—it makes us _heroes_. True heroes clean up after themselves, both physically and mentally."

Koriand'r absorbed that, but once again lost herself in an exhale of thought. She uttered somberly: "I fear that I only have the strength to shatter—and not to reconstruct."

"I don't think you're nearly as helpless to control your strength as you think, Kory." Courtney smirked. "After all—you just discovered tonight—you're vulnerable to chicken and rice, right?"

"..." Koriand'r sickly smiled. "Most affirmative." She shut her eyes and rested deeply into her pillow. "Perhaps I should construct myself a crude necklace of the said material as a constant reminder to myself of my frailty."

"I'd hate to see what you'd wear for a girdle."

"I beg of your pardon?"

"Oh, nothing."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Notes, notes, notes—financial figures, projected profits and losses of Stone Industries, intiated and failed projects at StoneTech, written reports from Ms. Drew, Stock Market figures and financial advisor summaries, drafts of contracts with Phaser Labs, letters from Dr. Ray, elaborate plans for expanding facilities within the Bunker, contractual agreements over the construction of the Tower, legal details over zoning the Island in Jump City Bay, new editorials from the Jump City Sentinel, public reactions to the appearances and the catastrophes of the 'Teen Tragics', a byline by Blake Glover, then a police report from Fifth Street and a few photographs of the front of St. Faustina Cathedral...

All of these, Cyborg perused, Cyborg scanned, Cyborg read, and Cyborg obsessed over—quietly—in his head, at over a million bits per second. And still—as he was lying there on his titanium bed/slab, wired to the very computer of the Bunker, having a direct connection to his central hub of information—he could not go over the myriad of details quickly enough. He twitched and stirred in his digital 'slumber' like a robot possessed, a quivering cancerous appendix to some cybernetic coil of silicone intestines.

Finally, his brow furrowed, his shoulders tensed, his red eye flickered like a brake light, and he opened his human eye with a gasp...a pause...then a groan.

The nearby monitors flanking his computer station danced in a brief, snowy static as he sat up, rubbed his head, and grumbled through an inevitable wave of migraine-level agony. Then, as the bits and non-bits and numbers flowed _out_ of him, he inhaled, exhaled, and relaxed...for what 'relaxing' was worth.

He glanced at a digital clock on the wall—a morbid allotment of crimson numbers bled forth an announcement: three and a half hours past midnight. It hardly soothed the insomniac's soul. Cyborg glanced at the computer monitors that he left on before collapsing metallically into his 'rudimentary slumber'. He could see that there were still fourteen teraquads of data left to review before he felt succinctly prepared to face the rising sun, and the hustle and bustle of the city it summoned forth.

"Nnngh..."

The half-android glanced tirelessly down at his wrist. He opened a compartment and dryly blinked at the liquid crystal display: _65.24% charge._

"Not the kind of charge I need." He murmured to himself. A sick, self-satisfying grin, and he unhooked himself from the cable, swung his legs out from the slab, and stepped up to stumble out into the halls of the Bunker. Alone.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_Schwissh!_ Cyborg sauntered out of his room and down the hallway, titanium feet echoingly as quietly as he could vainly afford them to. He drifted past the quiet rooms of his fellow team members—silently pleased with the lack of commotion coming from each chamber—aside from Beast Boy's, of course. The quasi-robot made his way towards the kitchen 'corner' of the Bunker, careening somewhat under the cold electric lights. He opened the extra-large fridge, his metal skin foggying from the icy vapor, and he dug his metal hand around inside for a half of a sub that he left inside either two days or two centuries ago.

"Better still be in here..." He mumbled to himself. "Or, I swear, I'm kickin' the lil grass stain's butt at sunup this morning. Pfft—that whole Vegan thang's an act, I swear. He's after my salami. I know it."

A clattering of containers and jars—a rattling of a pot full of leftover chicken and rice—and _viola_, Cyborg found it, hidden next to a carton of eggs and a sinfully old jug of milk.

"Hah...Well, alright." Victor Stone grinned to himself. "Guess somebody besides me lives to see another day after all."

He reached in, grabbed the plastic-wrapped corpse of a sandwich, and pulled it out. He shut the wide door to the refrigerator, revealing a pale face with an eyemask right behind it.

"... ... ... ...!" Cyborg froze in place, staring with a glinting red eye down at the curious specimen.

A young, lithe teenager in a white shirt, black sweatpants, and a dark eyemask—_practically glued to his face—_stood besides the refrigerator, swaying limply on his bare feet. He teetered back and forth—and every moment it looked as though he was going to collapse on his hind quarters, his back would arch, his head would cock to the side, and his hands would curl upwards like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn—or more appropriately, Jackie Chan in the throes of drunken boxing.

"Uhhh..." Cyborg squinted his human eye. "Robin?" A blink. "_Are you **Robin**?_"

"_Nnngh...Mmmf..."_ The eyemask'd thing stumbled forward, threading the eye of the needle that was the space between Cyborg and the refrigerator. His feet shuffled faster, slower, faster, slower, then side-stepped until he was parallel to the kitchen counter. _"...don't know... ... ...nngh... ... trailing the Ventriloquist as we speak...mmnng..."_

"... ... ... ..." Cyborg glanced about over his shoulders, shifting nervously on his metal feet. "Uh... ...R-Robin?"

"_Fhht..."_ the stumbling Boy Wonder twirled slowly, backed up against a wall, and caterpillar'd off it, raising limp fists towards invisible shadows. _"...fast as I can.. ... ... ...no need for Batmobile... ... ... ...Two-Face has the chocolate... ... ...threatens to fire a forty-four caliber...into the vanilla..."_

"Robin, this ain't Gotham." Cyborg said, helplessly smirking. "Or Willy Wonka's." He stepped after the un-caped crusader, holding the submarine sandwich in one hand and reaching out towards him with the other. "Robin-"

"_Fuu...Black Mask... ... ...from helicopter... ...using the searchlights... ...to mark the dead..."_

"Robin! Yo! Earth to Little Nimoy-" Cyborg shook his shoulder.

"...!.!.!" Robin suddenly jerked, wrestled Cyborg's arm up to the elbow, and rear-kicked the stumbling automaton in the chest.

"WHOAH-"

_**CRKKK!**_ With a billow of sparks, Robin detached Cyborg's left arm from the joint. He then cartwheeled onto the dining table, kicked a chair down, and twirled the twitching, detached limb like a bo-staff. _THW-THW-TWHPP!_ He struck a pose and snarled. _**"Nnngh—Show me the numbers! Mad Hatter!"**_

"R-Robin!" A one-armed Cyborg hopped up, hugging the sub to his chest like it was a football. "Yo, wake up, dawg! It's me! You're brave, metal-headed, and seriously piss-scared team leader!"

"... ... ..." Robin's eyemask rounded slowly. "Cy...Borg...?"

"Snap out of it, yo! The worse I could do to you is dip your hands into warm water!"

"... ... ..." The eyemask scanned the concrete horizon. "... ... ...I'm in the Bunker."

"Yes, man. You're in the bunker. Can I have my hand back, please?"

"Your...hand?"

"I kinda need it to change my underwear with."

"..." Robin glanced at the twitching arm in his grasp. He seethed suddenly, his shoulders bunching up-then relaxed with a groaning sigh. He hopped down from the table, shuffled over and handed the robotic limb back. "But you don't wear underwear."

"So you _**are**_ awake." Cyborg balanced the wrapped-sandwich in his arm pit and wrangled his right hand about to snap his left back into place. _**CLKKK-BZZT!**_ "Whew." He uttered, whole. "What's up with that, dawg? Do you _always_ go all Solid Snake in your sleep?"

"I..." Robin ran a hand through his unkempt hair, shuddering in his whites and blacks. "...I have a habit of sleepwalking."

"_SleepWALKING?_ Man, you could have been quoting the Gettysburg address upside down at the rate you were goin'!" Cyborg paced around to the counter and dutifully put the abused sandwich away. "That's a real _problem_, man! I mean—hao does someone like you afford to deal with something like that?"

"... ... ...!" Robin suddenly brought his hands up to his face in a jerk, then exhaled with relief to feel the taut edges of his eyemask still in place. "So long as **this** is here...I can survive. I'm sorry to have troubled you."

"Whatever. While you're up, might as well have a bite to eat. Maybe that'll throw your nocturnal psychosis off kilter."

"Thank you, Cyborg, but I would much rather forget that this ever happened." Robin leaned back against the kitchen table he had briefly perched on and rubbed his temples achingly. "I would also very much appreciate it if you didn't make the others aware of it."

"Well, like you said..." Cyborg chuckled helplessly. "No harm done. I mean, it's not like you interrogated any of us in your sleep. And your mask is still on, so—nobody got to see that you're actually one of the Baldwin brothers under that thang."

Robin frowned. "I am not one of the-"

"Does it matter, dawg?" Cyborg unwrapped the sandwich, took a bite, made a face at the taste, but took a second bite anyway. After a fateful gulp, he nodded with his half-metal head towards the Boy Wonder. "This has gotta be the second time I've seen you _not_ in costume. It still freaks me out."

"Glad I could provide some entertainment..." Robin groggily murmured.

"Heh. As if. But syriously, man, do you _ever_ wear shorts?"

"**No**." Robin's voice tersely throated. "I **never** wear shorts."

"Well, if you ask me, I would guess that you've been thinking too hard. All that crud that's happened with Kobayashi—you should let it rest, at least for a day. Like I said, Maddie talked her old man out of developing an aneurysm over the other night."

"Cyborg, you asked me to investigate the Underworld's involvement in framing us. That's what I did all of yesterday."

"Man, nobody asked you to go neck-deep and write a fifty page report on the whole thing!" Cyborg scarfed the rest of the sandwich down, swallowed mightily, and gestured towards the young man. "I know hao much this team means to you—But you're going about it _just a little_ too hardcore, don'tcha think?"

"I want to find out where the Underworld is...What D-Cube was going on about when he..." Robin hesitated. He sighed, folding his arms across his chest. "...When he filled my head with ideas of an outside party."

"All that conspiratorial way of thinking may work in Gotham. But not here, man. Don't forget..." Cyborg thumbed a metal hand towards himself. "This is _my team_, dawg. If anyone's gotta lose sleep and sanity over the things that's been happening, it's _me_. You've been doing a great job and all, but stop being Batman's apprentice for just a _day!_ I'm **begging** you! Weeks ago, when you came to me and practically _humbled_ yourself so that the two of us could bang our collective heads together, you said that you didn't want to hurt people anymore. Well, you're gonna hurt yourself, man—if you take too much of the weight of the team on your shoulders."

"I'm only doing what I'm good at."

"And I know that! Hell, man, there's nothing _softcore_ about you at all! It just doesn't _compute!_ I've been in those badass circles myself. The thing is, though, Robin, is that I've _prepared_ for it. I didn't make this team thinking that it'd be a cutesy little tea party in a treehouse! Hell no! I'm the self-appointed leader. I just spent the last four or so hours merging my skull with the computer's database. You say you don't believe in sleep—_I am_ the night! Heh, at least in this Town. Drop me dead in the center of Gotham City, and I'm just a vending machine. Don't you _see_ that, man?"

"I'm perfectly clear with you on this, Victor."

"_Are you_, Robin?" He pointed. "Just nao, you were chattin' up a whole bunch of Gotham City moonspeak in your sleep! 'Two-Face' this. 'Black Mask' that."

"... ... ... ... ...was I?"

"Dayum straight, man! I'm telling you—_No_-I am **ordering** you...As team leader!" Victor marched over and placed a metal hand on Robin's shoulder—the left hand, as a sign of connection, forgiveness. "**Relax."**

"..." Robin glanced at the metal wrist, then followed the arm up to Cyborg's torso, then face. "Does your intercom play the sound of the beach, by chance?"

"Heh, for you, Robin—I'll get a recording of Veronica Vreeland's lingerie closet. Whatever gets you some masked shuteye is fine with me, so long as you're bright and birdlike for me in the next few days...when I go to the firing squad to chat it up with Kobayashi-san."

Cyborg walked back to the counter while Robin stood there, watching him. The Boy Wonder asked: "When is _that_ scheduled for, anyways?"

"Nnngh...Tomorrow evening." Victor said, disposing of the sandwich wrap and cleaning the counter. "Nancy sent me an e-mail overnight. Guess she still thinks I wait till mornings to read the stuff she sends me. I don't know if the woman's patronizing me or if she has some deeply fermented hope that I'll some day wake up one hundred percent human once more."

"She sounds like your greatest asset..." Robin remarked, head craned towards the half-android. "You're right to have a great deal of confidence in her."

"More like _dependence_." Cyborg mused, strolling towards the refrigerator once more to grab a jug of orange soda. "My company would be gobbled up by Powers and Petracorp if it wasn't for her. She's the rock upon which I moonwalk."

"Maybe she could be more than a rock..." Robin remarked calmly. "Maybe she could be a plateau."

Cyborg planted the jug on the kitchen counter, closed the fridge, and glanced liquidly Robin's way. "Unless that's some smart joke about my chairperson's shirt size, then I'm afraid you've lost me."

"She's more than capable of running Stone Industries, Vic." Robin said. "Maybe you should consider giving her complete reins."

"Heh..." Cyborg chuckled and poured himself a glass of amber quaff. "And leave me with what? Just the team? The newspapers would label me as the 'Billionaire Boy With his Toys'."

"It's been known to work." Robin nodded.

Cyborg paused in mid-glass. He turned and squinted at Robin. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"... ... ..."

"Pfft—Shucks, who am I _talking_ to?" Cyborg poured the rest, capped the soda bottle loudly, and twirled about to lean his back against the counter. "Can't do it, Robin." He folded his arms. "This team is not only mine—it belongs to Stone Industries. It's like two conjoined twins sharing the same heart. You split 'em up, one of them dies...then the other one croaks shortly thereafter. I've made too big of an investment to erect two towers and then expect one to survive without the counterbalance of the other."

"If you distance us from Stone Industries..." Robin spoke. "...then your company won't suffer half as much backlash the next time we make an even bigger mistake than attacking Kobayashi."

"Man, don't go infecting everything with your pessimism-"

"AND...Drew won't have to suffer for any countermeasures that our arch enemies might wish to inflict upon the business that your father built."

"_Man_, we don't have no arch enemies!"

"We've been superheroes in Jump City for _three weeks_, Cyborg." Robin solemnly remarked. "Believe me. It takes time."

Cyborg gave the Boy Wonder a sideways glance. After a few seconds, he sighed, strolled over to the fridge, and put the bottle away into icy keeping. "Maybe if this was your team, Robin, you could afford to have us take a much more _aloof_ stance. I'm sure that's the way things work along the Gotham River—but it's not in keeping with my vision here, man. We want to work _for_ the people. We don't want to be gods, or lords, or titans. We just wanna show that we're here to help people—and that we're one of them, and that they have nothing to be afraid of—but have everything to relate to. I mean—look at Superman! He's the strongest person on this planet—_heck—_maybe even the Galaxy! And yet he attends charity auctions, public gatherings, meetings with the United Nations! He doesn't worry about _distancing_ himself from the local population! He's there to SUPPORT it! Truth, Justice, and the American way—someone doesn't do all that stuff by claiming to be an _Antartican!_"

"Superman can also move planets with his bare fists..." Robin stated. "He can bore a hole through the earth's core, and fly through an entire star and survive." The Boy Wonder unfolded his arms and stepped a few paces towards Cyborg. "People have known Superman for a long time, and have long learned to love and praise the Kryptonian for his endless heroics—but deep down, underneath their happy skin, they have to admit to themselevs—someone like that _scares_ them."

Cyborg raised an eyebrow. He cautiously reached for his drink. "Is that the Batman speaking inside of you? That we've gotta be afraid of superheroes to respect them?"

"You can fear what you don't understand, I agree with that." Robin nodded. "But at the same time, you can respect a being whom you can't understand—and yet understands _you_. I can't lecture to you about your team, Cyborg. It's not my place. But someday, a very dark day, when something ten times as worse as the Kobayashi incident happens—whether we like it or not—we can't afford to _not_ be untouchable. I don't want to see your business suffer—and, for that matter, I don't want to see you take the first shattering blow that could happen."

"I toldja, man..." Cyborg sipped some soda, swallowed, exhaled, and finished: "It's my place. I'm in charge of this team."

"Then think of what's best for the team." Robin said earnestly. "You've taken on so many responsibilities, so many tasks, so many jobs—You're trying to play director, producer, and financier to a blockbuster movie that nobody's even written a _scrypt_ for yet. The fact of the matter is—if you go under, the team goes under too. It's one thing to depend on its leader, but we've got to be able to stay afloat in case worse comes to worse and we lose our cornerstone."

"That's why I rely so much on you, man..." Cyborg said, smiling, in a quiet, sincere voice. "If I go under, I know you've got the tenacity to pick up the slack."

"Nobody can pick up after you, Cyborg." Robin said. "I may be good, but I'm not _you_. If something takes you out—at the rate at which you've been carrying this team—then nothing will be left to salvage, no matter hao much I give into it. Don't tell me it's not true, because the rest of the team misses you already. Today, we were all scattered everywhere, while you were _away_. As endearing as that may be—_There's something not quite right about that."_

Cyborg took another sip, glanced off into the corner of the Bunker, and murmured: "I'll work on it."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Cyborg briefly glared. "And you better work on your _sleepwalking_." He smiled. "I find you prancing around doing the one-man-show of Robin vs the Arkham Asylum—and the next thing I know _you're_ lecturing _me_ on overworking myself?"

"An old habit I picked up from my mentor..." Robin muttered and walked away.

Cyborg called after him. "Oh, I'd pay to see that!"

"_And you'd be burning a hole in your tin can!"_

Cyborg smirked, shook his head, and took a lasting sip. An exhale. "Frickin' basketcase..."

"_I heard that."_

"Go to bed and count bouncing Banes, ya pipsqueak!"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Robin's another story altogether..."

Beast Boy yawned, teetered, but kept his lethargic place on the edge of the bunkbed. The bright blue light of the webcam remained an ever-present landmark in between the elf's geen eyes. He aimed for the second star to the right, and chattered straight on til morning.

"He's more savage than Starfire, about as compassionate as Stargirl, got more gizmos than Cyborg, and nearly _quieter than Raven_. You take all of that, throw it into a jar, shake it up _real_ nice, add a dash of Lance Armstrong, a heaping helping of Michael Phelps, and a pinch of Luke Skywalker—and you have one heckuva recipe of badassery and heroic endurance, or at least the most undeniable proof of mankind's long awaited evolution from the Hanson brothers."

The green elf absent mindedly reached for his red-bound book and began flipping through it once more.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not _all ga-ga_ over the guy. He rarely talks to me, much less takes notice of my existence. That's okay, though. Not everybody was a Warp Trek fan. But still, it makes me glad that Cyborg is running things—_or at least trying to—_and not Robin. Cuz, as much as the bird boy tries to shake it off, he's still a long-range extension of the arm of _Batman_. I've only been in Gotham City once and..._brrrr..._let's just say I'm mucho glad that we don't got a bat-family member running the show here. I'd be kicked out of the Bunker for picking my nose. Things are fine just the way they are. Cyborg is Aragorn, Raven is Gandalf, Starfire is Boromir—and Robin? Pfft...Robin is _soooo_ Legolas. I had kinda wished _**I**_ would be Legolas, but I can't pull off the accent. Plus, I always liked Jack Sparrow the best. _Hmmm...I wonder who would be Gimli?_ Bah—Probably Commissioner Kneehouse. HAH!"

Beast Boy briefly smirked as he thumbed through more of the ancient pages and murmured to himself—or to the live feed—or to nothing.

"Still, sometimes it's hard to tell." He glanced aside at the cam. "Who's in charge, that is." He glanced once more at the pages, pages, runes, runes, runes. "Cyborg and Robin are the two most gung-ho of the team. They both do so much between them, that it's hard for the rest of us to stick a finger in. Starfire's floating about on her own, a bunch of pent-up power that's being wasted for nothing. Raven—I'm sure—could transport _entire buildings_ with her mind if she wanted to, but nobody's asking for her help. And me? I'm sitting here, conducting an empty chat room for hours on end, wondering when my _princess_ will come and sweep me away to a land of surf boards, explosions, and Xbox tournaments...or maybe I'm just staring at this boring book for forever and a day. Either way, there're no princesses in bikinis giggling into my pointy ears-"

Beast Boy froze in mid speech. His green irises shrunk. His ears deflated as he zeroed in on one particular rune in the center of the page.

It looked like a savage number '4'...but it had a nasty hash marck slashed across it.

"... ... ... ... ...huh... ..." Beast Boy blinked. "Well, aren't you cute?" A beat. "But you know what else is cute...?"

Silence.

The elf silently turned about, twisting his back, looking...looking...looking...down. At his rear. He brought a hand back, awkwardly twisting, and raised the edge of his t-shirt a bit. And he saw...

"No way..."

He sat up straight—_**BONK!**_-("OW, DANG IT—Nnngh")-hissed, and flippedflippedflipped through the pages. Blinking every other blurred paper, he saw and saw...

...the very same rune, repeating, in random places, forming a very obscure but very real _pattern._

"No...Freakin'...Way..." He glanced once more at his rump. At the book. His rump. Book. Rump. Book. "Ho ho ho ho hooooooo noooooo..." His face was twisted between a grin and a grimace, a gasp and a cheer, a praise and a pratfall. "Hoo ho hooooo noooo waaaaaaaaay..."

He thumbed through, saw the same damn rune a couple dozen more times, and looked at his tailbone for the umpteenth time in as many seconds, confronted with the same confirmation.

"What in the heck did Zoey and Razzar give me? This is too bizarre. Too dang bizarre. Holy Mushroom on a Witch's Teat—_This ain't right!" Flip!Flip!Flip! Scan!Scan!Scan!_ Gazing, gaping, twitching. "Wait a sec." He glanced at his butt, at the book, at his butt—book—butt. He took a deep breath, like a deep sea diver about to bob for pearls.

_Schoop!_

The green elf ducked into a green mongoose, curled on top of the bed, and morphed straight back up into an elf once more.

"Whew!" He took a breath. "Nao, what's behind Door Number One...?" He rolled his shirt up once more, glanced at his posterior... ... ...and blinked.

The birthmark had indeed changed. It nao resembled a percent sign, but with half of a 'W' bleeding through it.

"Hojeez...Dun tell me..." He picked the red leather tome up and eagerly flipped through it, his entire body re-energized with a manic enthusiasm that shattered the thickness of the underground night. "Is it...? Is it...? Is it...? Mother of _mud-ducks!"_ He hissed through his teeth, craning his neck away from the book as if the open pages were about to fire a bazooka at him.

For there, indeed, in undeniable clarity, was a matching rune to his body art. It appeared in three places, as did the rune that he spotted earlier. Something was emerging, and it made the green elf's ears twitch in insanity.

"I can't believe this. What in the Hell...?" He panted, panted, dropped the book, metamorphed into a snake, slithered around for half a second, and shot straight back up-(**BONK!**)-as a wincing elf. "Owwwieee...pain is food for the _collegic soul!_" He sneered, almost foaming at the mouth, grabbing the book, looking back at his rear. "Heck, I can't _see_..." His head flashed around. "Where'd I put my mirror? Nnnngh—_The Bathroom!_ **Dang it!** I can't let others see this, not yet! I'm playing Myst with my ass; they'll think I'm insane! Why not? Who wouldn't be insane to find that their tail-end was the yellow pages for the Necronomicon? Where...Where-" He finally looked at the webcam once more, the laptop, the webcam. "PERFECT!"

He pounced off the bed and James Brown'd across the tiny room on his knees. Shuffling up to the webcam, he glanced and saw his staticky image on the laptop, positioned himself around, and mooned the webcam. At just the right angle, he could see the birthmark with perfect clarity: _half the letter 'q' with three orbiting dots._ He thumbed through the ancient book, found the symbol occurring faster than he had planned to, and squirmed in crazy excitement.

"Oh jeez...Oh jeez...Hao about-?" He enlarged into a hippo, nearly knocked over a lamp and a coat-wrack, then shrunk back into a wincing elf. "Why the heck do I keep a coat-wrack? Ah well—**WHO CARES?**" He mooned the webcam again, saw _a jigsaw piece with two eyes_, thumbed through the book, found it. "Okai... 'Mongoose butt, something, something, Hippo butt, mongoose butt, something something..." He metamorphed, returned, read. "'Hippo butt, something, squirrel butt, something something, snake butt...'—SNkkkkthahahahaha...Ohhhhh man..." He grinned wide, thumbed through pages, metamorphed, presented his rear to the cam, thumbed through some more, and cacked. "Razzar! Razzar, you _magnificent bastard, I'm reading **your book**_!"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Early morning. The Bunker was silent...mostly silent. The lights were dim, the doors were all shut, and the air was still.

Then a door opened with a _schwissh._ A lone, petite figure slid out, glancing about the shadowed interiors, pensively.

"..."

Raven drew the blue hood over her bluer head. She snuck out of her room, shut it behind her with a wave of black telekinesis, and levitated down the length of the underground headquarters.

Halfway to her destination, she paused—hovering—and squinted with a mild glare towards the door to Beast Boy's room.

"... ... ..."

She shrugged it off, marched on through the automatic exit, and was gone.

Alone.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"And this one..." Beast Boy mooned the webcam unabashedly. "...is monkey butt! And monkey butt looks like...eh...eh...Penelope Cruz's nose under water with a shark fin. Eh...I gotta give it a better name, but...for right nao..." He somersautled until he was right-side up, picked the book up once more, and thumbed through it. "...Wow! The dang thing appears twelve times on this one page! Must be an important character, whatever it is. So, like, that's nearly thirty animals—and there are at least eight more runes to figure out. I don't know who in the heck wrote all this stuff, or what it has to do with me, but who better to translate it, am I right? Am I right—aw, nobody cares. Hmmm...I wonder what matches this rune."

The green elf shrugged, put the book down, and planted himself on all fours.

"Only one way to find out."

He glanced all around him at the furnishings of the room.

He winced. "Hope...This doesn't make a _hole_."

The changeling metamorphed—_**WHUDD!**_-a huge, hulking stegosaurus lurched and wheezed, scrunched up into every tight corner of the claustrophobic quarters, his backplates and spikes collapsing in on one another. After a momentary, googly-eyed lapse in reason, he shrunk back to elf form, every object in the room collapsing with a clatter around his imploded figure.

"Whew!" He exhaled, clamored through a pile of dislodged junk, and stuck his tush up against the webcam. "This one had better be worth it." He pulled his pants down slightly. "_What message speaks the drums-"_

A name on the chatroom flashed:

**EmeraldHope90: kinda looks like a backwards 'z' with the rings of saturn**

"AACKIES!" Beast Boy slumped upside down, squirmed on the floor, tried to get up, tripped on his pantwaist, then crabwalked up against the bunkbed before sliding the article of clothes so high up his person he became a green Steve Urkel. "Hoo...H-Hoo...H-Holy...H-Hao l-long have you... ... ..Uhm... ... H-Huhm..." He glanced, sweating, at the viewer count:

_'One'._

"... ... ...eh heh heh heh..." Beast Boy sweatdropped, sat up straight, and gulped hard. "So...uhm...Yeah. I know what this _might_ look like. But, I assure you, this is Beast Boy's Bodacious Tubular Live Stream—or whatever the heck I called it. If you want 'Elves Gone Wild', you've clicked onto the wrong site."

**EmeraldHope90:** **tee hee lol I dun know wut ur talking about but it's okai by me**

"...uh huh." Beast Boy's eyes narrowed. "Ya know, to be honest, I kinda sorta..._lost track_ of what I was doing. I really should have stopped the broadcast hours ago..."

**EmearldHope90:** **y? i found it all very interesting. especially the stuff about a Moment Without a Tomorrow**

"You were there for _that?"_ Beast Boy made a face. "But...But the website said the viewer count was zero!"

**EmeraldHope90**: **lol yeah about dat um the page u got here is great and all but the bandwith allowance is really bad so like me and my friends we had to piggyback off a mirror site to get here**

"...yeah...well...I'm no Bill Gates...or Spock, for that matter..."

**EmeraldHope90**: **lol have u tried refreshing the site?**

"...?" Beast Boy nervously thumbed the mouse attached to his laptop, scrolled the cursor over to the 'refresh' button...and clicked it.

A bit of a flicker and flash. The site reloaded. The chat fixed itself. And-

Viewer Count: _Twelve._

"AYE-CHI-WAWA!" Beast Boy hissed through his teeth and grabbed his fuzzy head. "Hocrap Hocrap Hocrap...I...I... ... ... ... ...CRAP!"

**EmeraldHope90:** **lol its okaaaaay**

**LouisBonfire69:**** ha ha he sees us finally**

**RobotCrabapple:**** let us see more skin**

**LouisBonfire69:**** yeah dun stop on our account lol**

**RobotCrabapple:**** you were onto something with the duck butt**

**LouiseBonfire69:**** rowwr lol**

**SephirothofThebes****: talk more about Starfire's skirt**

**CenaSuxAntonio****: cane Cyborg!.!.1.1**

Beast Boy winced. "Hooo boyo... ... ...If I had known you guys would be...erm..._actually _listening to me, I don't know if I ever would have..."

**EmeraldHope90****: oh noes!.!.!**

**RobotCrabapple****: dun close the chat!**

**EmeraldHope90****: we wanna see what the book says!**

**RobotCrapapple:**** plzzzz**

**LouisBonfire69****: At least let us see what a vampire bat butt rune looks like, jesus**

**SephirothofThebes****: yeah!**

**CenaSuxAntonio****: cane Cyborg!.!.1.1.1**

**LouisBonfire69****: goddammit someone kick him lulz**

"..." Beast Boy took a deep breath, he glanced more at the viewer count.

_'Fourteen'_.

"..." He smiled. He picked up the book, held it to the webcam, and smiled brilliant. "So...which of y'all wants to bet this thing's filled to the BRIM with _Triceratops Butt_?

**RobotCrabapple****: Hoooray!**

**EmeraldHope90****: hee hee hee yaaay =^_^=**

**CenaSuxAntonio****: shoot on the cast of Web Trek already!**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Raven stood on the edge of the rooftop to Phaser Labs.

Her blue strands flittered in the twilight breeze, sliding in and out from under her hood.

A sorrowful breath, and she shrugged it off as her arms twirled gracefully...

...and lifted her up, levitating her west/southwest...

Over the lone rooftops of the City.

Towards the lone, distant glow of Jump City Western Hospital.

Before the faintest hint of dawn rose over the horizon, swallowing her up in golden oblivion.


	5. Fellowship part 1

In the middle of the night, after a long and intimate chat with Starfire, Courtney finally had her shower. The blonde teenager trotted back from the Bunker's lavatory, still drying her stringy platinum threads. She entered her room with a quiet _schwissh_, surrounded by a silent aura that ate into her. Two wet ankles driped into a pair of awkward sneakers—a clunky semicolon to her thin, robed frame. Alone in the coffin of her concrete sleeping quarters, the girl hovered in a solemn breath. Her blue eyes fell over stacks of high school textbooks, a photo album from Blue Valley, Nebraska, a pair of crutches, a mannequin with the Cosmic Converter Belt and Star Spangled outfit, and an unkempt bunk bed littered with homework notes.

She took a deep breath, neither sorrowful nor relieved, simply existing.

The girl swiftly went about blow drying her hair, changing into pajamas, shuffling aside a pile of homework, and finally squatting on her bed. In a ritualistic breath, she knelt over and finally undid her sneakers. First the right, sock and all. Then she peeled the left articles off—revealing a shiny metal joint. A glint of steel, and Courtney's fingers deftly curled over the prosthetic, loosening the bands that kept her 'left foot' attached. She removed it, exposing her stub of a lower leg that ended just above the ankle. Without a second thought, she leaned forward and deposited the prosthetic next to two similar—but sturdrier built 'left foots'-her metal-laced Stargirl boots rested not too far away from them.

The girl then fwomped back into her bed with a day-long breath of finality. She crossed her arms behind her head and searched the ceiling with distant blue eyes, scouring the faint traces of thoughts that were criss-crossing the forest of her mind over the past few days.

"... ... ... ..."

She bit her lip with braced teath, forehead tensing somewhat. Her eyes trailed again—this time falling, along with her tilting head, towards the far end of the room where a particular box rested, next to a pen.

"... ... ...mmfnngh..."

She fought it—but only momentarily. She sat up, scooted over towards the edge of her bunk bed, and stretched an arm out—fumbling slightly. She finally grasped the top of one of her crutches, dragged it over, and propped herself up with it. Positioning her weight on the object, she 'stepped' over towards the opposite end of the room, snatched the box up in a lithe hand, and shuffled about until she could sit at her homework desk. She rested the crutch against it, sat down with her partial leg hanging out, and swiveled to face the wall.

A deep breath—as if battling a deeply sealed resolution—and she opened the box. There were several white paper envelopes inside the box, as well as several dozen sheets of paper. She took a few sheets out, unfolded them out, and shoved the box away as she twirled a pen into her grasp, inhaling in thought.

With a concentrated look, she hunched over the desk, stroked her pen to the top of the page, and emptied her heart onto its surface.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Stargirl)**

"**To whom it may concern...**

"**It's been three weeks since this team began. Three weeks of soul searching. Three weeks of stumbling through City Streets, asking for directions, and then trying to stop crime. Three weeks of looking silly in front of cameras, even sillier in front of criminals, and downright goofy in front of the police. Three weeks of wondering if the three weeks were worth it, and also trying to make heads or tails out of these interesting young people that I've come to accept as my friends.**

"**And, as a matter of fact, I _do_ consider them my friends, even if they're—like—totally clueless about it. I don't care. I like these people. I really do. I like hao different they are, I like hao brave they can be, hao funny they can be, and hao—when push comes to shove—they're starting to show the strength of conviction that the JSA has always possessed, even if they don't entirely see it in themselves—like I do.**

"**So, three weeks in, and I've found myself becoming a science experiment for the fuzzy-necked nerd who runs the laboratory above us. I've held the hair of a vomiting alien angel of mercy. I've argued with a green elf who thinks a little too much with his third leg and not enough with his sixth sense. And I've found what it feels like to drop a miniature Hiroshima bomb in the middle of the night right in front of a House of God.**

"**All in all, I'd say, I'm starting to settle into this place. And though everyone else may be royally freaked about it all, I'm beginning to feel a deep peace. Cuz only when people start getting scared of losing something does it become evident that there is something worth hanging onto.**

"**So it is nao that I have decided to write to you—and not several weeks earlier, though I was sorely tempted. I think if I wrote you way earlier, I wouldn't have had a good picture of what's happening here—or what's trying to happen here. They say patience is the key to success. Well, maybe that's true. But it's certainly the key to a confidence of some sort. And I am more confident nao than I've ever been.**

"**I mean, somebody has to be confident, right? And as much as I absolutely LOATHE cheerleaders, it's high time I take one for the team. Looking at it _that_ way helps me feel better about writing to you—it makes me feel less and less like what I'm doing right nao, what I agreed a long time ago to do for you, isn't so wyrd and secretive. These _are_ my friends, after all. At least, I like to think so.**

"**Anyways, like I said, this team started three weeks ago. And when it did, I couldn't have been happier..."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 1st, 2004)**

A fountain of golden rays poured over the ivory roofs of a hundred clouds, billowing in platinum brilliance as the Sun rose over the edge of the melting Atlantic Blue. A flock of birds rose through the snowy miasma, casting shadowy bands that briefly broke the warm beauty, but only highlighting it as the day glowed brighter and brighter into the thawing hours of a dewy spring morning.

Stargirl's eyes opened to this, squinting, a blue glitter. A sunny sheen of her blue face mask, as her golden threads danced around in the warm wind that pierced the cold troposphere—and she smiled: a metal webbing over polished ivory. The girl stretched, as if surfacing from a priceless nap. Her posterior rested petitely on the Cosmic Rod, as it hovered there—seating her—above the surging cloudtops.

"Nnnngh..." She stretched, exhaled, and smiled once more, costume'd boots dangling over the edge of the golden projectile upon which she effortlessly perched. "_'Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you...That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his Sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust..._'"

That positively warmed her, if it was possible to be anymore fed, and the girl beamed. A deep breath, and she stood up—daredevilishly kicked off the golden staff, backflipped in the sky—_Clamp!_-and snatched the Cosmic Rod in her wrist on the descent. The girl plummeted, a blue and white comet that pierced through the clouds, bursting through the hazy ceiling to descend brilliantly on the gray spectacle of Jump City that shimmered and yawned majestically beneath her...

...and the jeweled eye of the Bay towards the south...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"You mean we get to live in a giant cross?" Beast Boy cackled.

Cyborg had a conniption fit. He swiveled about and faced the other young superheroes while gesturing towards the bustling construction underway a few dozen yards beyond the rocky shoals upon which they stood. "It's not a _cross!"_

"It sure as heck looks like you're building a cross!"

"I'm telling you—_it ain't no damn cross!_ To be honest, I didn't really have a clue what I was building—Only that halfway through it made some sense to build lateral support struts to house more room for interior facilities and the like!"

"Garfield's right for once..." Raven droned, looking boredly up at the half-constructed skeleton of titanium and glass. "It sort of looks like a cross."

"Yeah, are we founding—like—the Christian Science League of Superheroes or something?"

"Okay—_Enough with what it looks like!_" Cyborg frowned as he led the other five in a gentle stroll around the perimeter of the sun-kissed island. "It's what's inside that counts."

"I see a bunch of hairy guys with beer guts and hard hats, mixing cement."

"What's _going_ to be inside!" Cyborg frowned, almost tripped on a rock, but maintained his dignity. "Inside that building is enough space to house a super computer, an interior training complex, a vast utility compartment for housing tools and equipment, enough living quarters for nearly eight times as many team members as we've got nao, a garage, a satellite linkup system, a brig for housing criminals-"

"We shall be living in a prison?" Starfire blinked.

"I wanted to be prepared for _anything_." Cyborg remarked with a grin. "I'm not saying we're gonna jail up every single cat we nab on the streets in the middle of doing something illegal—But since I'm building a structure with all this _room—_I figured it's best to make the most of it."

"You said that there's room for nearly eight times as many people as the six of us..." Stargirl leaned on her cosmic rod. "What, exactly, are we planning for? A Justice Club?"

"I didn't enlist in an army." Raven murmured. "I thought the six of us were only going to be the six of us."

"Y'all see what the Justice League people are doing!" Cyborg exclaimed, gesturing towards the busy Tower as an example while he spoke. "They're expanding! _Too late in the game_, if you ask me! The world of superheroes is figuring out pretty dang quickly that just five or six or seven butt-kickers ain't enough when you're having to deal with all the evils of the world."

"So we **are** building an army..."

"Not necessarily." Cyborg grinned. "I just want to have a facility that is more than just a _home_ away from _home _for us. Cuz—face it—most of us are from outta town. I wouldn't blame you if this place is just a rest stop in between visits back and forth from here and y'all's nesting grounds, ya dig? Stargirl, I know you have attachments to the JSA still. Beast Boy, you still have the Doom Patrol, right?"

"_Yeah, well, I-"_

"And I know _Starfire_ has got to get home sick every nao and then!"

"_Hao can my place of origin give me an affliction-?"_

"I want the City to think of this place as a necessary place of fortitude—Not so much a _castle_ full of _meta-people_ looking down upon the helpless! Hell, I was so busy getting the rights to build this place that it didn't occur to me hao formidable and scary looking it might be! It's important that we spread the message that we're here to _help_ the City—and that this Tower is gonna be here, in turn, to _help us._ We need **it** as much as the City needs **us**. You see? It's all about utility and usefulness. This ain't our fortress of solitude, people. We're here to help the citizens of Jump City—not shut them out."

"And yet..." Raven murmured with a narrowing of her sharp blue eyes. "...you built this place on an unreachable island in the middle of the Bay, thousands of feet from the nearest boatyard."

Cyborg winced briefly but managed a cheeky grin. "What's a superhero stoop without a **view**...?"

"The placement of choice is indeed strategic," Koriand'r remarked, running a hand through her windblown scarlet hair. "It allows us a vantage point of the entire region—unobstructed by any immediate Terran structure. I am also quite fond of hao accessible this environment is—for those of us who are equipped with the power of flight."

"Yeah, really wicked cool, dude." Beast Boy smirked. "I don't mind going to and from work as a seagull. And to think that some poor saps my age have to take the bus in to Starbucks."

"Your considerate spirit astounds me." Raven droned.

Beast Boy nudged the blue sorceress with an elbow. "Wait till you get a load of my wiley charms."

"Touch me again and you'll get a load of death."

"Yeah, okay. Don't poke the witch. Got it."

"I must also make an observation..." Koriand'r remarked with a sudden wilting to her voice. "...that the location of our domain also holds a curious irony." She looked limply towards the others. "This is not too far from the cataclysmic end to our battle with the nefarious Lord Trogaar, is it not?"

"Er...Yeah..." Cyborg rubbed the human half of his head. "About that. I kinda thought that maybe we should have a view of the Bay to...well... ...t-to sort of account for what was _dropped_ into the deep waters of this place three months ago."

"You mean it's not all cleaned up by nao?" Stargirl blinked.

"Mostly, it is. But it's all about positive image. If I had this Tower constructed way up in the North—in the mountains—it would seem like we're trying to distance ourself from Jump City's citizens. Way bad image, yanno?"

"We're making the assumption that the people of this City think anything about us at all." Robin spoke up, startling everyone with the reminder of his sudden presence—even Raven. He stood on an outcropping of rock, ever-still, his arms folded under the dark outline of his cape. "What happened three months ago was a crazy catastrophe—for all that the people know. The moment we announce ourselves as permanent members of this place—and persist in making our presence known—the more we will invite the people to label us for what has happened and for what's going to happen, whether positively or negatively."

"Yeesh...Will someone open the window to the Island? I think there's a wasp stuck in here..." Beast Boy adjusted his collar, wincing.

"I believe he has a point." Raven murmured.

"_Oh, you WOULD think that."_

She went on: "Just because we mean well, and we have beneficial super powers, and we have a majestic HQ in the shape of a cross-"

"_It's not a cross-NNnngh—Dammit!"_

"-it does not mean that the people will accept us in open arms."

"So, like what?" Beast Boy cackled, shrugging his green limbs. "We should just—like—quit before we even start?"

"I'm not in any way saying that we should let opinion deter our actions from hereon out." Raven droned. "Quite simply, we are here to protect the people—_Not_ to protect their opinion of us."

Stargirl cocked her head to the side. "Aren't you concerned about what people think of us, Raven?"

"No." The girl matter of factly replied, unblinking. "So long as we're protectors, what difference does it make if people like us or not?"

"Girl..." Beast Boy chuckled, sitting down on a rock and dangling his legs. "...the only time your autograph line is gonna be crowded is if they have a convention at a cemetery."

"I'm used to living in an ambivalent universe." Raven remarked at the elfling. "Why are you so obsessed with fame?"

"It's not that I'm _obsessed_ with fame—Just that it's a dang sexy reward for saving cats out of trees!"

Stargirl giggled. "Is that what you think we're here in Jump City to do?"

"Heck no!" The green one grinned. "I'm saving dangling supermodels from collapsing fire escapes! Raven can have all the trees full of cats, for all I care."

"And I don't."

"Shaymalan moment of the decade, ladies and gentlemen! Give her a hand!"

"Well, I for one _do care_ about what the public thinks of us." Cyborg said.

"_Woohoo! Go human toaster!"_

"Shuddup, grass stain. Ahem—I don't believe there's any point in trying to be a hero for a city if a city thinks of you as a mere guardian and nothing else. That's why it's important for us to have a face. Robin?"

"Yeah...?"

"That means you."

"What means me?"

"Having a _face_!" Cyborg pointed. "I don't care if it's got an eyemask or not, dawg. For once and a while, you're gonna have to shake off the bone-chilling image to get these people to realize that we're not all about aloofness or intimidation! That means keeping an open-door policy! Allowing public forums! Attending charity events! Even shaking a few hands, if that's so hard to ask for!"

"You've got to be joking..." Raven drolled.

"What's the problem with that?" Stargirl asked. "I personally look forward to getting to know the people of this City."

"I'm still stuck on 'open door policy'..." Robin remarked in a low breath. "Cyborg—Be careful what you wish for."

"I wish for Halle Berry covered in syrup in a bed of waffles."

"I'm serious, Victor." Robin's eyemask narrowed. "It's one thing to maintain a public image, but superheroes must be _entitled_ to a little sovereignty."

"I know that, dawg-"

"For security, if nothing else. Not everyone in this City can be trusted. Family, friends, and partners can all turn on you. You of all people should know that."

Cyborg opened his mouth to say something...but instead bit his lip.

"I am with Stargirl on this one..." Koriand'r spoke up. Her body tensed as she spoke earnestly: "There is so much that I have done to establish myself as a..._less than reputable_ character."

"You? Less than repurchaseable?" Beast Boy blinked.

"I believe I said-"

"Starfire, you've been sunshine and butterflies ever since you came back!" He toothily grinned. "I dunno what happened to you out in space, but you're not the same hotheaded, street exploding, car-tossing, extraterrestrial Aileen Wuornos that you were when you first landed here! I'm sure people will _see it_ in you! Just relax and _be yourself._"

"Is it not prudent of me to attempt with great conviction to amend my wrongdoings?" The alien girl said with a brief warrior's frown. "I have flown over this City. The scars of my first arrival are still here. Do not attempt to appease me by stating, unfoundedly so, that my presence endows only good spirits." She sighed, hugging herself in a swift vulnerability. "Verily, I do not look forward to the laborous times ahead..."

"I can't say I do either, Starfire..." Robin spoke up from the shadows of the bluffs. "But I'm willing to give it a shot—For the same reason you are."

"And what is that?" The Tamaranian visitor murmured.

"Faith." Robin said, icily.

For some reason, that was enough to make the Tamaranian smile, even through the cold mist of the salty air.

"So..." Beast Boy rubbed his palms together, grinning wide. "...what's first on the agenda? I dunno about you guys, but I call dibs on the view of the Bridge." He made a step towards the Tower-

Cyborg held him by the shoulder. "Not so fast, little man. My masterpiece ain't finished. We ain't movin' in yet."

"We...ain't?" Beast Boy made a face. His pointed ears deflated. "Wait—_Dude_...Just where are we staying?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Oh you are _**KIDDING**_ me!" Beast Boy's voice echoed against the cold, concrete interiors of a barren Bunker beneath Phaser Labs. "There's a spacious, luxurious, cross-shaped skyscraper being built in the middle of the Bay to pamper our every needs and we're spending the next _two months_ holed up in Leatherface's kitchen?.!"

"For the last time, dawg—It _ain't a 'CROSS'!_" Cyborg frowned. "And be quiet, will ya? Dr. Ray and company can hear us through the bulkheads!"

"Oh, that's even MORE perfect!" Beast Boy shuffled about the place, kicked a scrap of dusty newspaper and shrunk against a wall—teeth chattering—at the skittering sight of a cockroach or two. "Look at us and fear—oh evil doers of Jump City! We're the _Justice Virgins!_-Coming at you live out of the SuperGrandMa's Super Basement!"

"I dunno, I kinda like it..." Stargirl smiled.

"Yeah, you _would."_

The blonde tapped a single dangling lightbulb with the tip of her cosmic rod. "It feels homely, like we're camping out during a hurricane party. Heeheehee...What humbles a person more than living shoulder to shoulder with one's fellow teammates? It's like living in the navy!"

"Did you _see_ the city streets outside of the laboratory up there?" Beast Boy hissed. "It ain't the Ocean, girl!"

"I'm with Stargirl." Robin said, standing in the corner besides a partially constructed computer station. "We're lucky to even have a place like this. It doesn't bother me at all."

"Shut up, dude, you're used to caves." Beast Boy grumbled. He strolled down the doorways to dark, claustrophobic living quarters. "At least toss in a widescreen t.v. or a foozeball table—I mean _dayum!_ I thought we were protecting the City!-Not waiting for the Chinese to drop the Bomb!" He peered his pointy-eared head into a darklit room. "Is this where the bodies of camping teenagers are piled up...?"

"That's **my** room." Raven glared.

Beast Boy stuck his head back out, squinting at her. "Oh yeah? Hao come?"

"It's the furthest towards the end. The most secluded." Her eyes narrowed like a stalking panther's. "I **claim** it."

Beast Boy raised his arms and backed away from the compartment. "It's all yours, Hester Prynne. Go forth, be merry, and multiply all your dust bunnies—But I got dibs on the one with the two bunk beds."

"Why would you want a bunkbed if you're the only one sleeping in the room?" Stargirl asked.

"I alternate from top to bottom."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I sleep half of the time in cat-mode. Cats like to be on pedestals."

"Heehee...alright."

"Okay—We done poking fun at what the City has most graciously donated to us?" Cyborg exclaimed.

"Don't look at me." Raven murmured. "I don't poke."

"Whatever. Basically, it's like this:" Cyborg spun about slowly and pointed towards the appropriate corners of the place as he uttered: "Living Quarters. Commissary. Exercising area. Briefing area. Resting area. Lavatory. My lab. Infirmary. Main exit—and Hidden exit."

"Hidden exit?"

"It leads down a long, underground, subterranean corridor—Eventually opening up in a concealed spot of a landfil in the Western District."

"Oh, cool!" Stargirl exclaimed. "It's like hao Batman leaves the Batcave!" She twirled to look at Robin. "I mean,_ it is_, r-right?"

"..." Robin stared back. "I wouldn't know. He never lets me drive."

"It is here where we will be living, working, and planning out campaigns against crime." Cyborg said, slowly shuffling about the empty space of the Bunker. "Upstairs-" He pointed up through the concrete roof. "-in Phaser Labs, there are many facilities at our disposal which we can use for training purposes. Dr. Ray has promised to lend a hand, and we should all be thankful for it. I've worked with the man for a long time. He's a dang good dude, and really smart, and really open to superheroes making a difference in this City. The fact that his organization stepped up to the challenge of housing us is no small sacrifice on their behalf—Considering hao tough things have been for Phaser Labs. This isn't exactly the prettiest spot in Town. Ever since S.T.A.R. Labs has shown up—Dr. Ray's group has been floundering a bit in the dust. But nao that we're here, we can give his organization a chance to recoup—and we can see about cleaning up this part of town a bit."

"Uh...Sorry if I sound like the last piece of celery picked from the fridge, but...what's so bad about S.T.A.R. Labs that we didn't bother moving into _**their**_ underground carriage house?" Beast Boy blinked.

"Nothing..." Cyborg briefly frowned. "...only that their head scientist in Metropolis, Emil Hamilton, has been opposed to superheroes ever since the second Apokolipton Invasion and would rather _die_ than lend metahumans a hand here in Jump City."

"So..." Raven glanced at the dusty corners of the place. "...just to spite a man that half of us have never met, we're choosing to eat and sleep in Phaser Labs' idea of Pharaoh's tomb?"

"Pfft—It ain't _that_ simple, girl!" Cyborg said, then smiled. "We're here because we can make a _difference_. After all, when it really comes down to it...It's not the headquarters that makes us, nao is it?"

"Speak for yourself." Beast Boy grumbled. "If I don't get my beauty sleep, I'm liable to become a dark spawn of Darkseid myself."

"Hmmm..." Raven's lips curved ever so slightly. "I may like this place already."

"Forget I said anything..." The elf muttered, palming his face. "Aw hell, if Keanu Reeves can sleep in a crypt and still look good, then so can I."

"Where is the lavatory again?" Starfire asked.

The elf parted his fingers and blinked at the alien girl. "Huh?"

"Over there, Kory..." Cyborg pointed. "Didn't I already show y'all?"

The alien girl glowed a bright green hand before the door frame and peered inside. After a beat, she made a face towards the others. "But I do not understand! Why are there no disposal hoses fastened to a Waste Eradicator Coil along the foremost wall?"

"... ... ...say what?"

"I think..." Robin shuffled over, calmly. "...she's referring to some sort of alien toilet."

"'_Toi_..._let_...'?" Starfire blinked. She squinted quizzically at the others. "Surely you do not mean to suggest that Terran civilization has not grasped the technological superiority of utilizing a Waste Eradicator Coil!"

"Oh, this sounds positively delightful." Raven droned.

"Hooo boy..." Beast Boy smiled nervously.

"Uhm...St-Starfire?" Stargirl bracedly bit her lips and took the girl aside, arm-in-arm. "...I hate to be the one to break it to you, but..."

Everyone looked on, shiftily.

The two wandered over into a far corner. Stargirl leaned forward with her rod. She whispered into the amber-skinned alien's ear. A few seconds passed...half a minute full of awkward gestures...then a cyclonic motion of a gloved hand down an invisible bowl-

"_By all that is holy in **X'hal's creation**! You are making a great jest!"_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**Cyborg was right to think that he had planned for any and all eventualities—but he wasn't entirely _accurate_. In the end, there is _always_ a job that's obligatorily left for the women. Go figure. I doubt it would interest you to know that it was always the same way with the JSA. I still can't approach a round table without expecting to find water marks from Wildcat's beer bottles and somehao combat the urge to wipe it clean.**

"**Speaking of round tables, our new team has one of our own—more or less. It's true that the Bunker is ours to live in—as donated by Phaser Labs. But there's another room—as well—deeply positioned within the third story of the facility. It's sealed off from the rest of the building, and sound proof. I didn't understand why until Cyborg escorted us all in there one day. Everything had hushed down to a real quiet tone. I glanced at everyone from across the table, and could hardly contain myself, as I realized what was happening.**

"**That was the first day that I started to feel really, really excited about all of this."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 2nd, 2004)**

"Our first priority is to schedule a beat." Cyborg said.

"A beat?" Beast Boy blinked. "I thought we were working with Commissioner Kneehouse, not Dr. Dre."

"He means a _**schedule**_—And a _route_." Robin suddenly explained from where he sat. The room was darkly lit—and behind every body at the table was a different map strung up on the wall, highlighting a different part of Jump City. Behind Cyborg was a large computer monitor, presently blank. The Boy Wonder went on: "In Gotham City—Batman and the rest of us divided our numbers into various districts of the City. Nightwing was usually in charge of the water front. Batman had Old Gotham City. Batgirl and I scoured Downtown while Huntress stalked the Upper Heights."

"What for?" Raven asked.

"For anything." Cyborg fell back into pace, speaking: "The whole idea of fighting crime in a city the size of ours first and foremost means _surveying_ it. You patrol the streets, keep on the look out for strange or suspicious happenings, and report any emergency to the rest—so we can all flock to the same scene in a pinch."

"Oh! Exactly like police patrol." Stargirl nodded.

"Only we should have two advantages." Robin said. "Though, to be honest—most of us here only have one."

"And what's that? Beast Boy asked.

"Mobility. Four of us can fly." Robin then raised his hand. "I for one can get around pretty quickly from building to building—But not as well as Raven, Stargirl, Beast Boy—and certainly not as well as Starfire."

"I do not believe that our **leader** is graced with the luxury of flight." Koriand'r bashfully uttered.

"Yeah, well..." Cyborg smirked. "I _do_ excel the most in the second advantage that the _rest of you_ need to master."

"And what's that?" Raven muttered. "Ego?"

"HAHAHAH-no." Cyborg briefly frowned. _Clk-Clakkka!_ He produced a laser pointer from his arm. "Geographical knowledge." He spun about, aimed his arm straight at a wide map of the entire Jump City area, and highlighted a spot left-of-center. "We...are here."

"On the wall?"

"No, ya little green smurf—_Phaser Labs. Edge of Western and Central Districts. _Just beneath the East-West bend of the Metropolitan Highway. West of us is an area chock full of suburbs, parks, public facilities, and middle-to-upper level housing. North of us is the Industrial district, a cluster of factories and manufacturing centers. East of us is the Central District—that separates us from Downtown. South is the Southern Warehousing center, and the north half of the Georgetown bridge that spans the Bay."

"Nao there's a pizza pie if ever heard one," Beast Boy whistled.

"I do not see what is edible about Cyborg's dictation." Starfire murmured.

"If you weren't so cute, I'd kick the chair out from under you."

"Hrm..." Starfire pouted.

"This is but a brief glimpse of a glimpse of a glimpse of Jump City." Cyborg remarked. "The entire metropolitan area occupies roughly two hundred and fifty square miles of an enormous cape that juts southward into a large estuary, leading into the Atlantic Ocean. South of us, across the Bay, is an arid region with sparse population, nothing but sporadic farmlands and reservations. North of us is a mountainous forest that geographically splits us from the fringes of Metropolis. Jump City is essentially an oasis, sectioned off from the rest of the state by mountains, desert, and a wide river basin. Aside from a village or two, the nearest legitimate city is Westhaven—and even that is a long drive from here."

The half-android doused the flames of his laser pointer and swiveled about in his chair like a Bond villain.

"The long and short of it—We're _isolated_. We're the only superheroes in nearly two hundred miles in any direction. When there's trouble, the people in this City should know who to call—And it will be **us**. But we can't help them if we _don't know_ hao to reach them. That's why it is the job of each and every one of us to learn these neighborhoods, to memorize these streets, to recall every landmark in the back of our head, to get in tune with every sound and breath this city emits. This place breathes and bleeds, and we must get familiar with its pulse, or else we might lose track of it."

"Hippy sentimentality aside..." Raven slurred. "Just hao _deep_ are we sticking our hands into the navel of this place?"

"As far as we need to." Cyborg glanced across the table at the blonde. "Stargirl—I know you've got your hands full of homework and stuff, but you're gonna have to tackle twice as much if you're going to get a foothold in this place."

"Fine by me." She bravely smiled. "I'm no stranger to extracurricular focuses. I spent a year playing lacrosse."

"Ohhhh...so _that's_ your secret!" Beast Boy winked.

Stargirl smirked back, twirled her cosmic rod, and listened as Cyborg turned to face:

"Starfire. I know you are still struggling to adapt to everything that is _earthly_ about this place. I want you to know that you can turn to us whenever you have any questions or need help grasping the essentials of Jump City's design."

"I am most grateful for that, too, Victor." Koriand'r smiled gently. "But, I must admit, I am no stranger to memorizing urban architecture. I once had to hide in three separate alien cities while on the run from Gordanian bounty hunters."

"I make a good homing pigeon from time to time..." Beast Boy spoke up. "But I have to admit—I get a little shaky in big cities. I once spent a week in New York, walking the streets of the Bronx—only to realize I was in the subway the whole time."

"Please tell me he's joking when he's not joking..." Raven groaned.

"As long as you're bitching when you're not bitching!"

"At ease, everyone..." Cyborg raised his metal hands. "We're just settling in. We've got our place to stay, our place to meet up, and our place to leap off into the City. I know this is a lot for us all to take in. But sooner than later, we're gonna have to pick up the pace. And you don't do that by looking at your City through just some stinkin' map. Am I right, Robin?" The team leader glanced aside.

Robin's lips curved slightly. "I can think of one thing that might help us." He stood up from his chair-

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"This..." Robin spoke loudly against the high winds that billowed against the skyscraper. "...is Downtown Jump City!"

All six heroes stood in a line, their feet hugging the edges of the buildingface. They stared down from over forty stories at the gray haze of high rises, city streets, bustling traffic, and ambient urbanity stretched beneath them. The letters 'W', 'A', 'Y', 'N', and 'E' stood above them on the rooftop that Robin had 'randomly' chosen. Raven's eyes squinted in the sunlight as she huddled under her blue hood. Beast Boy craned a hand over his forehead, shielding his eyes against the sunset. Starfire hovered, tall and resolute. Stargirl sat on her cosmic rod, glinting in the sunlight. Cyborg stood tall and proud—and Robin positioned himself rather fearlessly on the outmost corner edge of the building, balanced in a daredevilish precariousness as his cape flapped in the wind.

"Get used to the view!" The young caped crusader spoke loudly. "You're going to see a lot of Jump City from this height from nao on! I know this might sound redundant to most of you fliers—but if you have any fears of heights, lose them P.D.Q." With emphasis, he backflipped/vaulted over Cyborg-and perched besides a briefly gasping and teetering Beast Boy. "They'll only slow you down."

"So does showing off!" Beast Boy sputtered. "Cyborg, I thought you were giving this briefing—Not Jack-be-Nimble here!"

"I wanted to give you a visual tour of the City! Robin thought this would be a great spot to give y'all a view of the place!"

"And what a view it is..." Stargirl murmured. She smiled in awe, pushed the waving blonde strands from her forehead, and stared about in the majestic sunlight. "I've never quite _looked_ at it from this close before!"

"This _close_?" Raven squinted. "I knew you were named 'Stargirl', but I didn't think it was literal."

The mask'd Courtney briefly stuck a tongue at the blue-haired girl and smiled up at Starfire. "Ain't it beautiful, Kory?"

"Most glorious..." The Tamaranian murmured breathily. "I truly had no idea. I have never given myself a chance to be...To be _still_."

"This may be your last time too." Cyborg nodded. "We didn't come to this City to sight-see. From here on out, most of the skyscraping we're gonna do is purely for getting to the scene of the crime...wherever it may be."

"Emphasis on the 'wherever'." Beast Boy smirked.

"Speaking of the devil..." Cyborg paced in front of the teens, grabbed their attention, and pointed directly down. "Downtown Jump City. Financial District...home to the big corporate giants of this place: Kobayashi, Powers, Lexcorp, Petracorp—heh-Wayne Enterprises. They're all here!"

"Where's Stonetech?" Stargirl asked, blinking. "Of Stone Industries?"

Cyborg walked forty-five degrees across the rooftop and pointed Westward. "Over there! In the Western District!"

"Isn't Phaser Labs in that direction?"

"It's between here and there—yeah-just beyond the Central District. See that big splotch of brown and rust? Heh...it ain't nearly half as sparkly and clean as the Downtown Area where are nao—But it's where a good chunk of people live, and where a good dose of the crime is. It'll be an even busier place when the sun goes down. Nao look over here..."

Cyborg walked towards the East Side of the Wayne Enterprises building. He pointed out towards a huge quadrant of brickwork and brown rooftops.

"Old Downtown Jump City! Exactly _hao_ 'old' it is, I have no clue—but it's the second largest district of the City! The buildings may not be nearly as tall as the cluster atop which we're standing—But there're six times as _many_ buildings! It's the easiest place to get lost in! Many suspects may try to hide there—especially in the highrise condominiums towards the south! Speaking of which...!"

He pivoted his metal arm and pointed towards a long splotch of highrises that separated both Downtowns from the Bayside.

"The Upper Residential Section! This is the second most densely _populated_ spot of the City! Most people who work in both downtowns live here! This is home to the middle class, people not nearly as desperate as in the northern blocks or the central area. But don't let the area fool you—there are still rampant issues of burglaries, arson-"

"-not to mention drug trafficking." Robin added.

"Dang straight. The place brushes elbows with the shipyards and the commercial district—So it's like an isthmus between seas of illicit smuggling rings. You can only keep a City so clean when it brushes up with an Ocean."

"What's that sexy strip of land to the south?" Beast Boy smiled glintingly. "I think I see a movie theatre and a boardwalk!"

"Hell yeah!" Cyborg briefly smiled. "That's the Southern Commercial District! That's the center of Jump City tourism—what you see in all the advertisement photographs of this place! The boardwalk, the Bayside Plaza, the theatre, the symphony hall, the stadium—This is the home for Jump City nightlife! And to the East—south of the Shipyards—is Jump City Beach, the home for Jump City daylife!"

"Sounds rad!" Beast Boy rubbed his hands together. "Can I do my first beat there?"

"Nuh uh."

"Why not?"

"Because you said 'rad'! That's an instant demerit!"

Starfire and Stargirl giggled. Raven rolled her eyes and Robin said nothing.

"Feh. _ Typical dolphins; laugh for the sardine can_." Beast Boy uttered as Cyborg walked towards the northeast side of the skyscraper's roof. The others followed/hovered.

"The shipyards!" He pointed towards the appropriate mass of buildings, warehouses, and docks along the east coast of the City. "In spite of all of Commissioner Kneehouse's best efforts—it still remains today one of the hottest and most nefarious centers for drug trafficking, illicit transportation, and overseas smuggling. People around here call it the Panama Express—because over the last decade several mafia groups from the East Asian nations have been attempting to circulate harmful substances through a long, alternate sea route to get to here—As stupid as it sounds, so far it's worked! People roam the Jump City streets today with weapons typically found amongst crime groups along the California coastline!"

"It's beyond me that the City doesn't regulate this sort of stuff more..." Stargirl exclaimed above the tumultous April winds. "I understand the sovereignty of free trade—but aren't the JCPD and Coast Guard allowing a lesser of two evils?"

"That's where we come in, Spangle!" Victor firmly nodded his head. "**We** are the _regulation_! From nao on! It's important that we remember that!"

Stargirl briefly pouted, arms folded sternly. "My name is not _Spangle_-"

But Cyborg paced on, pointing north. "The Northern Residential District! Nowhere else will you find a more wretched hive of cliché and villainy! The Neon Hand, the Dead Men, and the Buzzard Gang—all hail from a thin strip of low-income housing that stretches nearly half the length of Jump City! The place is a home to the homeless—a haven to desperate criminals of the tiny variety, those who would rob for food or shelter more than for riches. In a place like this, it becomes hard to tell the difference between who's an ordinary citizen simply trying to get by, and who is a predator wanting to exploit those around him!"

"The place is the closest thing this City has to Gotham." Robin remarked with a nod. He knelt thoughtfully on the edge of the rooftop besides Cyborg and glanced over his cape at the others. "I'll be scouring the rooftops for the first three nights; it'll be my beat, as I get a firmer feel for the area."

"But make no mistake!" Cyborg sounded off, facing the rest of the Team. "At one point or another, every single one of us will take the plunge! Whoever here isn't willing to get down and dirty in the most needy streets of this place doesn't belong! For years, crimes and murders and gang wars have gone on—unstopped—with only a fractured police force trying to maintain order! We're here to make _changes_ in this City! To bring comfort and balance to a people who are complacent in their surroundings, both the rich and the poor! We're not gonna do any of that by keeping things at an arm's length! You wanna live in the Tower I'm building? You gotta _earn_ your place! And if you fall behind, you fall off the team! Heroism is a free concept, but not a free trade! I make the rules here—in my City—and as long as you follow them, you're cool!"

"Frosty, even!" Beast Boy hopped with a grin.

"Sure, that too..."

"_Come onnnnn, Cyborg! Say 'Frosty'!"_

"In your dreams, little man-"

"_Say it!"_

"Say it yourself, ya snowman!"

Raven boredly glanced at Robin. "Are we done here...?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 3rd, 2004)**

"Robin and I believe in something—A horrible, hidden, and dirty _something_ nicknamed, allegedly, the 'Underworld'."

Courtney flipped through a neatly presented folder full of factsheets, photographed crime scenes, police reports, transportation manifests, and highlighted maps of Jump City—all focusing on the Northern Half of the metropolitan area, including bits of the Central District and Eastern Shipyards. Garfield, Raven, and Koriand'r sat on a fresh pair of sofas that formed a right angle in the center of the Bunker's common room. Around them, various bits of equipment, utility, and furniture were scattered about the slightly less-dusty basement in a haphazard sign of the superheroes presently 'moving in'.

Victor paced about the lot while Robin perched on a table in the back. "What you're looking at nao is all the potential evidence that the two of us have gathered to prove the existence of this place," Victor said. "It's a lot of stuff to look at—so take your time. But memorize it to the best of your ability—All of this, for all its substances, is but remedial."

Raven droned with a Vulcan eyebrow. "You call one hundred and twenty sheets of data 'remedial'?" She waved the folder about flappily for emphasis. "Laminated no less?"

Cyborg took a deep breath. "Kneehouse's opinion. Not mine."

"I've met that lady once." Courtney remarked. "She makes Mount St Helens look like a fire hydrant."

"_Dammit!" Garfield_ snapped his finger.

Courtney smirked at him. "Wh-What, did I steal something?"

"_Girl-"_

Robin interjected: "The JCPD may or may not have their own interpretation of the evidence we've intercepted. But that's not our concern. If we concentrate too much on the politics of _convicting_ someone, we lose sight of the goal in the end."

Garfield blinked. "But what if we try too hard to do the right thing and throttle a suspect waaaay too brutally before we can _prove 'em_ guilty in the eyes of the City?"

Victor added: "The same consideration could go for wanting to turn in a suspect too quickly and present evidence prematurely—Or using fake evidence towards the same effect, which is just plain lazy and _wrong_."

"It would seem like the most tentative balance to maintain." Koriand'r remarked, flipping through the pages and scanning them with great, green interest. "The reputation of the law keepers of this City is put on the line with every movement we take."

"Not entirely." Robin said.

"No...?" Koriand'r glanced up.

"None of us are exactly _anchored_ to a written code. What we do on the street, what we hold ourselves to, we _write_ on a daily basis." Robin folded his arms. "We're superheroes. We're not police."

"Still...eheh..." Garfield bit his lip and glanced at more photos and spreadsheets. "Where's the line at?"

Victor paced and smirked. "I've already gone through the motions with Commissioner Kneehouse. If we have _any_ anchor whatsoever—It's the known fact that Stone Industries is funding our efforts here in this City—including the construction of the Tower and the mantenance of all its resources."

"It can't possibly be _that_ simple." Raven quietly remarked. "You stand a lot to lose in the event of a catastrophe."

"Let that be my concern. The rest of y'all..." Cyborg made a show to point at Robin as well as the others. "...the five of you teenagers—You worry about doing what you _know_ is right. But above all..." A glint of his red eye, cold. "...Follow my rules."

"Eheheh...Y-Yes, sir, Victor, sir." Garfield nervously sweatdropped.

The half-android strolled by and slapped him firmly on the shoulder. "But don't turn into robots!" **Whap!** "Hell—That's the last thing I've ever wanted to be!"

"You should talk..." Raven droned.

"Yes. I should." Victor bent over and faced her squarely, nose to nose. "And don't even _think_ of zoning out when I talk. Robin...? He can afford to forgive you if you lose sight of a thing or two from his experienced lectures. But I'm the one calling the shots here...And I don't want anyone missing a thing when it comes to what I know what's best for this City."

"... ... ..." Raven calmly blinked. "You can lead me. But don't breathe on me."

"...Ahem. Thatta girl." Victor finally stood up straight and continued pacing about the sofa'd group. "And the first thing I know—that _we know_-" he gestured briefly Robin's way. "-is that the Underworld exists. It is a conglomerate consisting of both the interests and resources of the Dead Men and the Neon Hand, unified in a loose pact so as to assure the stability of crime in an unstable City. There will be many dirty monsters to limp across our sight—many horrible things that'll rest on our one plate from time to time—but this is the first, biggest, and most important thing we will have to deal with. And if our team is supposed to mean anything in our City, then it cannot function in a place where something like the Underworld is accepted and permitted to continue existing. Either we get a headquarters, or the criminals do. I'm not even _thinking_ of moving us into the Tower until we deal with these elusive mothas. Hao's _that_ for inspiration?"

"Awww man..." Garfield deflated, holding his folder nao with a limp disgust. "That's like asking us to find a needle in a haystack before we flippin' raise the barn!"

"Like you see before you—the evidence is there!" Victor pointed emphatically, his metal finger glinting in the cold electric lights of the Bunker. "And that ain't all of it either! We've got spoken testimony, word from the street, intercepted transcrypts—there _is_ and Underworld. It's somewhere here—in the City—and it's under our feet!"

"Or just next door...since we're kind of in a basement..." Garfield sweated.

"All of this evidence is all good and fine..." Raven's violet eyes narrowed. "But aren't you being a little _subjective_?"

"The same current of evidence led Robin and I to unearth corruption infiltrating the depths of Stonetech." Victor took a deep breath, weathering the storm of most recent memories. The human half of his brow furrowed. "This is but the second leap from the first bound—A second movement in the symphony that's to save this City. When the Gordanian ship fell into the Bay, it sent ripples out into every corner of my Town—and bit by bit, the Underworld has been showing its ugly hide. We're here to skin the sleeping giant once and for all."

"Hao poetic..." Raven murmured. "...wake me when we got a blood sample to this _beast_ of yours. In the meantime..." She gently folded the material in her lap. "...I will do what you want of me to assist in the search."

"I _know_ you will," Victor gave her a sideways glance, strung between a knowing smirk and a suspicious frown. He strutted past Robin with an air of finality. "The Boy Wonder here has drafted up a training exercise for us. Soon, I wanna see just what kind of _oomf_ y'all bring to the table. There's a load of talent sittin' in this room just _waiting_ to find its way under the Underworld's cracks. It's all singing to me, yanno? Like Destiny! Don't you hear it?"

"Does Destiny sound as melodic as the crumbling Earth?" Koriand'r murmured, glancing forlornly at opposite walls around her. "...Or is that simply my imagination?"

"Claustrophobic, Star?" Garfield smirked.

"Phweee..." The amber-skinned alien girl sighed. "I fear that I have been in Space for far too long."

"Uhm...about this 'training' we've got planned..." Courtney raised a hand diligently with a shy smile. "Is it gonna be tomorrow?"

"That's up to Cyborg," Robin throated.

"Nah—Girl. Dr. Ray's gotta set up stuff in the lab."

"PERFECT!" Garfield hopped up, his folder leaf-falling unceremoniously towards the concrete floor. "We should do something! Hao about we watch a film?"

Koriand'r smiled. "Film of what? Asteroid leech saliva?"

"Er-" Garfield bit his lip.

"I can't." Courtney sat up, neatly tying the folder shut and tucking it under her arm. "I've got plans tomorrow."

The green elf squinted quizzically up at her. "Oh? And just what's so special about a Sunday morning that you'd have to go somewh-..." He blinked. "Oh...OH."

"..." Courtney smiled.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 4th, 2004)**

The wide ceiling beams of Jump City Summit Church echoed with hundreds of voices harmoniously chanting the lyrics to _Be Thou My Vision_, as Courtney stood with a hymnbook in hand, positioned towards the rear pews, but all the while joining the grand hum of those in deep morning praise about her.

She was dressed sharply—howbeit unassumingly—in a white blouse with a long beige skirt. A mahogany hairband crowned the modest look, contrasting with the shine of her neatly brushed golden threads as she swayed gently with the hymn, gently affording a smile in between lines as she followed the lead of the assistant pastor conducting from the center of the majestically splayed altar before the large congregation.

"**A first week in a new home is full of first days, and each first day is full of first things. This was my first Sunday service at a new church—a _big_ church, something that greatly dwarfed the First Church of Blue Valley, where Pat and my mom like to take the family—including Mike, when he's not being a huge smelly testament to what it means to love your enemies. I'm not into big churches—not really—but I figured I'd test the waters, yanno, like a stranger coming across John the Baptist in the River Jordan.**

"**It doesn't matter _where_ you go to hear the Word of God. It matters only hao much you're willing and patient to _listen_ to Him. I came to Jump City because I'm patient, and waiting—for experiences both destined and divine—and if He wasn't going to speak to me at Jump City Summit, then so be it. I'd move on elsewhere. The way it was shaping up to be with Cyborg's team, my spiritual life was the only thing that could afford to _move_."**

The hymn ended. The assistant pastor stepped aside, and the lead preacher—a noticeably elderly man—took center stage in the pulpit. With one motion and one feathery voice, he signaled the congregation to be seated. Everyone followed with a quiet solemnity, and Courtney found herself stumbling to follow suit. Nevertheless enthusiastic, she put the hymnbook back in place and opened her ornately covered, personal Bible, seating it in her lap, and opening it to the appropriate verse as she perked her ears towards the ensuing sermon.

"**I had not always been religious. Kids my age get asked all the time hao long they've been following God—and they'll routinely say 'all my life'. Well, I know for a fact that isn't true with me...and I doubt it's true with them either. After all, God has no grandchildren. At some point, there's gotta be a line of separation between faith inherited from parents and faith _found_ by divine intervention.**

"**When Pat moved into the family, and I made the discovery of the first Star Spangled Kid's outfit, and life—jump started or not—started to usher in all sorts of fantastical and dangerous adventures into my everyday experience, well, suffice to say I had a much more important reason to believe in Something. Honestly, it's been a never-ending search. I was searching back home in Blue Valley, I was searching with the JSA, and—right nao—I continue searching with this new chapter of my life in Jump City. I can't pretend to say that I've actually found God. But if the faith in my life is of any indication—then I am quite certain of the Truth: He's found me."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

An hour and a half later, the service over, several clusters of families and associates slowly and gradually exited the large church building positioned on the edge of Jump City's Western Park.

Courtney found herself idly lingering on the large stone steps, back stretching briefly as she absorbed the sunlight of the still-fresh morning. She couldn't shake the smile on her lips for the life of her.

"**The preacher—Pastor Bill Yeager was his name—gave a sermon on penitence in the face of prolonged and arduous trials of faith. He referenced Job, of course. I mean—who doesn't? But as the sermon went on, and he kept making references to the changes in a person's soul upon the advent of old age, I decided to take a look around. And—I kid you not—I have to have been the only person seated in the church below the age of forty. It's not that strange of a situation to be in, of course. Blue Valley hasn't exactly been known for its dance halls and frat parties. But it couldn't help but make me wonder—Jump City Summit Church, a rock in the middle of the City that was large enough to put St Peter to shame—Would a place like this have been shaken at all by the Gordanian Incident? I wonder what sermon Pastor Yeager might have prepared the next Sunday following a giant UFO full of alien reptiles plummeting into the great Bay waters just miles from his own prayer chapel. Heck—who am I kidding? The good man would have quoted a passage from Job.**

"**I had considered asking some of the Titans to join me that morning. I was _this close_ to doing it, too—knocking on each of their doors in the deathly dawn of sleepy Sunday bliss and offering an extra copy of the Bible to bring with them. But, if there's anything that experience has taught me, you don't rush God—especially not on other people. God has outlived every billion upon billion of burning stars in the Universe—a Being of that patience doesn't benefit from kicking people in the head, and neither should I, his Child by my own recognition. I had every confidence that the first week in Jump City would be followed by a second week, and a second week meant plenty of second 'firsts'-opportunities or not to knock on the doors of sleeping heroes."**

"Hello? Oh, hello there...Do pardon me..."

"... ...?" Courtney glanced over her blouse'd shoulder, blinking. A polite smile, or at least half of one. "H-Hi, m'am. May I help you?"

An elderly couple trotted over—a gray matted rectangle of an old woman with a similar square of a husband, adorned in a respective dress and suit—feet slowed by the liquid molasses of age.

"I couldn't help but notice you earlier during the service. You're new to our congregation, are you?" The woman had a smile of porcelain, with all the cracks of age. It was too priceless to possibly bother ignoring.

Courtney smiled bracedly. "I...uhm...I-I'm just visiting, honestly. This is my first week in town. I heard of this church, and so I thought I'd listen to what kind of a sermon Pastor Yeager could deliver. He's very good at...a-at quoting his source."

"Why, the only Source that ever matters, child." The woman performed a perplexing wobble with her knees which Courtney belatedly realized was a 'curtsey'. "Tell me, isn't it refreshing to hear from the Book of Job once in a while?"

"Oh, believe you me..." Courtney fidgeted where she stood, fingers curling on her grip of her Bible cover. "...suffering was never quite so exquisite. Personally, yanno, I was hoping for a few more passages from the Book of Matthew—especially that part that Yeager briefly mentioned on supporting your fellow man in times of-"

"You have the eyes of a Southern Belle. Tell me, child..." The woman smiled another round of china. "Are you from Virginia?"

"Erm...Nebraska, ma'am. Though, if you wanna get technical about it, I was born and raised in Malibu."

"Malibu, Virginia?"

"... ... ...I-I don't believe I've had the pleasure of knowing your name, ma'am?"

"Oh, I'm nothing to write home about." The elderly woman giggled dismissively and then not so dismissively announced: "Ruth Beltram, head of the Summit Church Newsletter. And this is my husband of forty years, Carl."

The aforementioned 'Carl' slurred something in a dead language.

"Carl says he's pleased to meet you."

"Glad to be of acquaintance..." Courtney nervously smiled. "Uhm...Ms. Beltram, I'm a little lost in Jump City still—What direction would I have to go in order to head back towards the Central District?"

"Oh, good heavens, child!" Ruth staggered as if struck in the double-chin by a wayward comet. "A pretty little lady like you has no business walking into that unsavory part of town all alone! Why—I would never forgive myself if I let a newcoming visitor to our congregation take a walk into the valley of the shadow of death unnecessarily!"

Carl slurred something.

Ruth swatted his shoulder. "What difference does it make if she takes a bus? That side of town would eat her alive, dress and all! And a mighty becoming dress, I might add!"

Courtney chuckled good naturely. "Uhm...Thanks for your concern, Ms. Beltram. I...uh...I-I think I would be able to take care of myself."

"Why the big hurry to be elsewhere? You need to have lunch with us, darling!"

"Oh...Oh goodness..." Courtney winced, hissing through her teeth but trying her best to maintain a kindly smile. "Ms. Beltram, that's too _nice_ of you. Really. But—like I said—I'm just testing my toes in the water. There's really no need to go through all the trouble-"

"Well then, if you were wishing for a baptism, I happen to know where Horton, the assistant pastor, is setting up a list-"

"You know what?" Courtney jumped girlishly where she stood. Bright eyed. "I'm f-famished! Where to?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

At least Courtney was not alone. Seated at the center of a table at a Chinese buffet, the blonde girl found herself surrounded by nearly a dozen members of Summit Church—all of them elderly—and no less than four centuries of dusty years between them all. She maintained her composure in spite of the waves of the geriatric sea, absent mindedly picking at a small hilltop of beef low mein while twenty-year-old 80s music crackled over the speakers, sprinkling over the heads of several peppery haired patrons.

"You have a familiar face, Miss Whitmore..." Ruth Beltram smiled, her kind eyes so tightly hugged by wrinkles that she was positively squinting. "If I didn't know better, I would fathom to say that I've seen your face on the television before."

Carl murmured something.

She throated back: "So what if our cable hasn't been working for a year! I tell you, I don't forget a pretty face! Reminds me of myself in college—Except I was a closer friend to the curling iron."

Courtney gently smiled. "Oh...Uh...I-I haven't really been on camera much..." She honestly said. "My family and I are not so keen on getting tons of publicity."

"Oh, why is that, child? Are you famous?"

Courtney chose that precise moment to gulp down some low mein and belatedly reply: "The way I see it, you're never half as famous as you are lucky. I dunno about you, but God's blessed me with a family that supports me—even when I must embark on new and exciting things far from home...er..._my old home._"

"My my, they sure are working younger and younger these days, aren't they, Carl?"

A murmur and a slur.

"Well, of course they haven't initiated a female Draft for the Services! Have you flipped off your rocker? Heavens to Betsy!"

Courtney giggled helplessly. She took another bite from the buffet...

"**It was a battle with Solomon Grundy. A magic spell had zapped his brain—something to do with an ancient entity that was living in Green Lantern's ring or something, I'm not entirely briefed on all the details—I only know the result. He attacked Blue Valley High—my school—in the middle of second period. And he went straight for me, injuring three students and destroying half of the science wing in the process. The Justice Society rushed in to intervene, but it was too late—There was only one reason why one of the biggest names in the Rogues Gallery would chase after a seemingly innocent blonde girl trying to finish her mid-term.**

"**That peculiar blonde girl was me, Courtney Whitmore...and within seconds of being attacked, she produced the Star Spangled Kid's cosmic rod out of her backpack—along with the Cosmic Converter Belt—and went to town on the zombified mafia boss. It was the only thing I could do—people would have died if I didn't fight back, if I didn't use my invulnerable gadgetry and the iconographic weapon handed to me by Jack Knight to protect those who were already in danger.**

"**The long and short of it: Solomon Grundy was defeated. We had to summon Captain Marvel to dispense with him. But the damage was done—and I don't mean to my school district's pocketbook. I was exposed. I was no longer the naïve little schoolgirl nestled safely and unassumingly in the navel of America's midwest. I was a teenage superhero in hiding, an unmasked vigilante with a giant golden golf driver for a billy club.**

"**And you know what's the funny thing? It hardly made a difference! I mean, it _did—_and yet it didn't, yanno? No terrorists abducted my Mom. No radical group from Kahndaq bombed my neighborhood. No mad scientist tried to make off with my underwear. I was, for the most part, relatively _safe_. Sure, there was the brief media frenzy and fifteen minutes of journalistic mania—but even that was stifled, and by the communal network of my hometown, of all things. It practically brought tears to my eyes to realize hao much Blue Valley was willing to step up and defend its Star Spangled Kid—when I always thought _Kid Flash_ was the resident celebrity vigilante. I guess it just goes to show, you never really know hao blessed you are—until you're suddenly and irrevocably delt with a curse.**

"**But, heaven help me—it was a sustainable curse. Having my identity exposed didn't affect my standing with the JSA any. And—from the way things have been as of late—it hasn't affected my induction into Victor's Team ever. Some curses are easier to deal with than others, I can't even begin to confess hao lucky I am.**

"**So, a stiff brunch over Chinese buffet surrounded by senior citizens is hardly anything to complain about. I'm pretty sure Felix Faust would have thought up worse concoctions—so who was I to complain...?"**

"I bet you young people are excited, though..." Ruth Beltram murmured. "What, with this wave of superhero business heading into Town."

Courtney perked up, but pretended not to have. "Uhm...what superhero business might you be referring to?"

"_Not business! More like shenanigans!"_ A gray-mustache'd man from a few seats over remarked. _"You know what they did to the Bay! They dropped a huge alien battleship into it! Hah—In my day, we called that assisting the enemy!"_

"About time someone dropped something into the Bay that made a splash!" Ruth mused. "This City could use some excitement! Do you know that Jump City hasn't won a major sports title in nearly twenty years?"

"_I think you've been spending too many long nights typing up your newsletter, Ruth! Everybody knows that young punks in costume are bad news!"_

"May the heavens strike you down! If young people want to make a difference for once in their generation—I say let them! HEH! You should be thankful!" Ruth shook her head with a smirk. "My nextdoor neighbor has a son about your age, Miss Whitmore. Handsome as the dickens—but a real sloth, if you know what I mean. Won't even mow the lawn!"

"_Ruth, the Baxters and their boy live in a third story tenement."_

"Never the matter! Young people should be more active in taking care of their City and making it look beautiful! Hao about you, Miss Whitmore? You look like the volunteering type!"

"Oh...uhm..." Courtney blushed, toed the floor with her shoes beneath the table, and stammered: "I-I've been known to clean up a few streets, nao and then."

"Nao that's the spirit!" Ruth 'slapped' the table top—producing no greater than a tap with her elderly composure. "Jump City could use more like you, child! It's in the town's name, after all! This is a place of iniative!"

"_This is a place of morons! Can you believe that Kneehouse, that basketcase, is lending these crazy capes a license?"_

"_She's not endorsing them, Philmore. She's giving them a chance to stretch their legs and show their stuff. I for one wouldn't mind seeing if they can pull off in this Town what's worked for years in Keystone."_

"_Keystone has the Flash! We have ourselves five floozies and an alien menace! You remember what the news programs said! That one with the red hair—She attacked the City! Ransacked downtown! What's what attracted the other punks to go toe to toe with her and form a team in the first place!"_

"P-Perhaps..." Courtney bravely spoke up, wincing a bit as she predicted the outcome to follow her utterance: "...perhaps the alien girl was just _scared_. And when the others came to her aide—she redeemed her dastardly acts by protecting the City from an even greater evil?"

"_Ha! That's rich! It's like the prodigal alien-!"_

"Miss Whitmore is sharp, Philmore!" Ruth spoke across the table with a fragile grin. "What we have in our City is nothing other than a prime example of forgive-and-forget. Remember Pastor Yeager's sermon from this morning? I'm sure the poor girl from Mars who landed in our City was no less afflicted with suffering and needed a shining beacon of Truth to bless her!"

Courtney blinked off into the distance. She mouthed: _'poor girl from Mars...?'_

"Miss Whitmore-"

"Hmm? Yes?" Courtney smiled innocently Ruth's way.

"I didn't get a chance to ask you. What denomination are you?"

"Oh...erm..." Courtney picked at her long-forgotten food. "My family and I went to church regularly—but I personally never really subscribed to any particular group. The way I see it, as long as the Word of God is given, unobstructed, then what's the point of categorization?"

"Heheh...Don't be shy, child," Ms. Beltram smiled. "We're a tolerant group here, believe it or not. My daughter-in-law married a Methodist, after all, and the roof is standing over her head! Can you believe it?.!"

"Heh..." Courtney's eyes rounded on her untensils. "A divine miracle indeed..."

"It just goes to show, a little bit of change is healthy for the soul. I know every young person in this City like yourself is clamoring over the fate of the streets—what, with this new superhero team and all. But what's key is to relax, let God do his work, and trust in Him for a good change..."

Courtney narrowed her eyes. She leaned forward with a calm grin and murmured: "Tell me, Ms. Beltram, in all honesty. Do you really..._really_ think that Jump City needs heroes?"

"_Oh, here we go. Tell her about that one time you barked at a man for double-parking in front of the bank, Ruth!"_

"_Put a sock in it, Philmore."_

Ruth chuckled. "My, my—people get in such a tizzy fit over this stuff." She folded her wrinkly arms and took a deep breath. "The way I see it, Miss Whitmore, if it means keeping pretty young and intelligent people like _you_ safe...than superheroes can only mean good things for Jump City."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 5th, 2004)**

"You stinkin' rotten bitch!" The truck driver sneered and slammed his grimy elbow hard into Stargirl's mask'd forehead. _**WHUD!**_ "So help me, God, I'll send us both to Hell!"

Stargirl winced, struggled against the man's weight, and fought for control of the wheel. "At least you speak for half of us-" She slammed him hard with her shoulder.

"Augh—SHIT!" He lost control of the wheel.

A loud screeching, and the truck swerved hard to the side, jacknifing across the darklit alleyway with a violent, ear-splitting, twenty meter skid as it teetered, teetered, and finally fell sideways with a crash of aluminum and glass. The motor still throttled, tires spinning nakedly in the air. A few wet, meaty impact noises from inside the driver's compartment, and the driver's side door flew off its hinges with a golden beam of light. _**P-POW!**_ The flailing body of a screaming thug flew out.

"Waaaaaa-" **THUD!** He slammed hard into the brick wall of an apartment building and collapsed wetly into a puddle beneath.

The engine to the truck cut off. A gloved hand clamored out, followed by the cosmic rod—and finally Stargirl peeled herself out, glaring and clenching braced teeth under a tangle of angry blonde threads. "Hssssshhhh..." She stumbled out of the vehicle completely, leapt to the floor, and marched towards the man.

"Goddam whore..." He grumbled, shuffled across the alleyway on his back like an irate turtle, and fumbled limply for a switchblade somewhere in his jacket's pockets. "...I'll cut you a new love hole if you don't back off-"

"Love on **this**." She twirled the Cosmic Rod—_Thwp-Thwp-Thwp!_-and conked him good over the head. **CLANG!**

"Unnngnh..." He fell unconscious under a light drizzle of starlit rain.

Courtney slumped her weight against the propped-up body of the rod, panting, panting. She glanced briefly back at the overturned truck just as a certain caped crusader swung in. Robin landed effortlessly and marched towards her, not saying a word.

She smiled warmly at the sight of him and pushed an innocent lock of hair up over her ear. "H-Hey, there. So nice of you to drop in. Where did the others-?"

"Drop again." He grabbed her arm.

"H-Huh?..._WAAAIE!_" She shrieked as he hurled her towards the ground and covered her with his caped self.

_P-P-PING!_ Bullets ricocheted around the bricklaid wall around them. A pair of headlights announced a jeep with three gunmen, all of them armed to the teeth—and unleashing those said teeth in a lead spray all around the two superheroes.

"Wh-Wh-Where d-did they come from?" Stargirl breathlessly gasped. "I thought we sc-scared all the escorts of the drug tr-trransport off!"

"We've been patrolling this City for a mere few days." Robin murmured calmly against her ear, unaffected by the violent hail of bullets about them. "We're lucky if we can scare a cat."

"What do we d-do?" She gulped.

"Wait for them to light it up."

"...light w-what up?"

"The RPG they're packing."

Stargirl's voice squeaked. "Th-They have a rocket propelled grenade—?" She jumped.

Robin tightly held her shoulder down with a vice grip.

"_They'll turn us to toast-!"_

"Give it a few seconds." He glanced over his shoulder—past the sparks and bullet bits—and narrowed his eyemask. Without looking at her, he asked: "Can you let loose a beam of cosmic energy in a single focused burst?"

"You mean to blind them?"

"Exactly—But on my mark."

"O-Okay..." Courtney bit her lip and nervously clicked the appropriate trigger on the Cosmic Rod. A low-pitched hum filled their half of the alleyway, growing steadier over the slightest hint of a burgeoning glow.

"Wait for it..." Robin eyed the rearmost passenger of the jeep; the man was fumbling for a device in the back of the vehicle.

The cosmic rod throbbed and throbbed. The hum grew louder, higher in pitch. Ripples started to dance in the puddles on either side of Robin and the Star Spangled Kid.

The man in the back of the jeep loaded what was indeed a bazooka. With a testosteronical snarl, he aimed it towards the far end of the overturned truck—towards where Robin and Stargirl were lying.

Robin's eyemask narrowed. A glint of starlight, and he leapt up to his boots. "Nao, Stargirl-"

"W-What?" She gasped up at his leaping figure. "Nnnngh-!" She struggled to her knees, hoisting the rod up-

"Hckk!" Robin perched onto the side of the collapsed truck, in clear view of the crooks on the far end of the alleyway.

"_There's one of 'em!"_

"_Ice the bastard!"_

"_Hot potato, coming up-"_ The man pulled the trigger on the rocket launcher-

"HAH!" Stargirl clenched her eyes shut as she fired the pent-up burst of cosmic energy. _**FL-FLASSSH!**_ A golden strobe billowed outward and encompassed the three gunmen.

"AAGH!" The man with the launcher pulled back at the last second—**PFFT-**_**CHTOOOOO!**_ The grenade streamed off at an awkward angle.

But Robin had already judged it. He leapt up high, extended his bo-staff, and flung the metal weapon at full force into the midair explosive. _CL-CLANK!_ The rocket propelled grenade was deflected harmlessly straight up into the air, four stories, twirling, where it exploded anticlimactically between two brick facings. _**KA-POWWW!**_

The men at the jeep reeled from the encompassing lightshow and concussion blast. _Th-Thump!_ They blinked in time to see a pair of steely boots landing on their jeep's hood. "..._aw shit, son-"_

Robin snarled and swung the still-smoking bo-staff across the first two's faces. A spray of spit and bloody teeth, and he then pounced full-force on the screaming man with the empty bazooka. Their bodies tumbled off behind the glow of the jeep's headlights, where the last thug's limbs flailed and twitched from the Boy Wonder's shadowed fists.

Stargirl stumbled up to her feet, watching breathlessly as Robin single-handedly finished the three assailants around the escort vehicle. She exhaled long and hard, and then marched over towards the collapsed body of the truck driver, where she knelt down to dutifully handcuff the suspect. The man groggily muttered in his own la-la land, but was powerless to stop her from binding him.

Smiling at her own work, she craned her neck up and called over towards the jeep's headlights. "That's four men accounted for! We got 'em, Robin! We stopped the drugs from entering Central District!"

Robin's shadow answered with a razor-sharp birdarang. _Th-Th-Th-Th-Th-**THWISH!**_ It flew violently towards Stargirl.

"Daaah!" Stargirl gasped, flinching—realizing she didn't need to; for the birdarang neatly missed her head, impacting a groaning voice straight behind her. She spun with a breathless look of horror—catching sight of a man dropping a gun, for the sharp projectile had embedded an inch deep into his wrist.

The man wailed in pain and stumbled back towards the open rear of the truck—just as Robin sailed in with a dropkick that nailed the last surprise assailant in the chest and sent him smashing through the windshield of the overturned truck. _**CRKKK!**_ Robin landed from the kick on expert boots and gave the scene one last observation before walking Stargirl's way.

Still positioned on trembling knees, Stargirl stared at the hot gun lying on the floor. No sooner than ten seconds ago, it was aiming directly into the back of her skull.

The girl's lips quivered. "He... ...H-He could have killed me!" She stammered. "I-I thought there were only f-four thugs!"

"There were **five**." Robin said. "One driving the truck. Three in the jeep. One in the back of the truck."

"I...I-I didn't s-see him..." She exhaled.

"Don't worry." He slapped a warm glove on her shoulder. "**I** did. You're safe." He walked over to the handcuffed driver and dragged him over towards where he formed a human circle with the throttled gunmen. "Great job stopping the truck, Stargirl. We couldn't have done it without you."

Stargirl merely stared at Robin, at the gunmen, at the truck, then at the Boy Wonder again. She clutched hard to the cosmic rod; it was the only thing to keep her hands from trembling. Something deep inside her wanted to say his name.

But she was breathless.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**I joined this team with the full expectation that I would be saving people. Little did I know that I would owe my life—ten times over—to the other heroes I had chosen to associate myself with. In just the first week alone, I've been rescued from a bullet to the head, three falls to my death, two collisions with a rampaging getaway car, and a rabid raccoon—and no, that last one wasn't Beast Boy with a bad hairday. It's a long story.  
**

"**To say that Robin was the top of that list of rescues wouldn't in any way be an exagerration. It's oddly fitting that the person with the least superpowers is the most...well...bad_butt_ of us all. And you know what I mean. Forgive me; I don't like handwriting the A-word.**

"**One reason I'm glad to work with Robin is that he reminds me of myself. Of course, I don't mean that in any self-absorbed way. None of us have a snowflake's chance in _the bad place_ of comparing ourselves to the protege of Batman. But, without his tools, he's just a boy in a suit—a very _talented_ and _mature_ boy in a suit, granted, but he doesn't have any metaphysical powers. I'm the same way, you know. Beyond the Cosmic Rod and the Cosmic Converter Belt, I'm just some annoying dork from Blue Valley with braces and a love for strawberry-vanilla ice cream. Oh, and my stepbrother is _sooo_ my Kryptonite. But that's a topic for another time.**

"**Cyborg's really lucky to have someone like Robin helping out. The Boy Wonder really is this team's smoking gun—in so many situations. Countless times, he has proven to be the edge we need in digging up a drug run, arresting a runaway murderer, or getting the drop on a room full of gunmen. Starfire has her immense powers, Raven has her mystic slight of hand, Beast Boy has his tricks of the trade—But nobody can ever, _ever_ predict what Robin is going to do next. And I think that's what makes him so dangerous—to the criminals, that is. We're lucky to be on the receiving end of his grace.**

"**And that said, there's not much that's to be said about him—not noticeably, at least. He rarely smiles, never laughs, shows almost less emotion than Raven—and to top it off, everything we're presented with is a total facade. The Robin we all know—the Robin we _think _we all know—is no different than the legend that is known worldwide, just like Batman's infamy is known. The boy wears a mask, and he wears it most prominently around us. It's a strange price to pay to be awesome when you're forced to play the same anonymity before allies that you play before villains.**

"**I wonder if part of him wants to be more social, wants to be more personable, wants to talk about his feelings and his fears and his deepest, most secret thoughts—Because we are his friends, aren't we? Isn't that part of the reason we're doing all of this? To have shoulders to lean on?**

"**But that wouldn't be possible. For Robin to betray that secret side of himself, to peel off that mysterious mask and show the wounded human he surely must be underneath—then he would cease being the _legend_. He would cease being Robin. And I think that he—just like Cyborg—loves this City too much to make that kind of a sacrifice."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Later that night...as squad cars gathered in a blue and red strobing halo about the overturned jeep...as dozens of police officers formed a congo line that pilfered and sanctioned away the packets of various illicit drugs...as Cyborg hovered in a corner, talking over a phoneline with Commissioner Kneehouse...as Raven, Beast Boy, and Starfire hovered towards the side and oversaw the safe loading of the gunmen into a jailvan...

...Stargirl sat on her Cosmic Rod, hovering a foot or two from Robin—who was perched on a fifth story fire escape, his cape bustling in the midnight wind.

"Again...I owe you one-"

"Yes." Robin throated. "You owe me **one**. That doesn't mean you have to thank me for the _twelfth time in a row_ for saving your life."

Stargirl hugged her knees to her chest, staring forlornly down at the scene. "Don't you get tyred of that?"

"Tyred of what?"

"People thanking you constantly for saving their life? And don't tell me it doesn't happen to you all the time?"

"Not really, no." Robin says. "It doesn't."

She craned her neck at him, blinking incredulously. "No? Are people in Gotham really _that ungrateful?"_

"It's not that." Robin shrugged. Staring off towards the city skyline. "I just don't stick around long enough to hear anyone say anything."

"Oh...H-Heh...Guess that makes sense..." Stargirl hugged her knees again, sighed, and glanced once more at the scene. "Mmmnngh...I-I should be down there, helping them out..."

"You're fine up here." Robin dryly said. "You've earned it."

"I've earned _nothing_ but a hole in my head!" She groaned, tossing her blonde head and running a hand over her mask'd face. "I can't believe I was so _stupid!_ I've never let myself get blindsighted like that before! Not in all the days of fighting cyber-nazis and psycho-terrorists with the Justice Society..."

"This is a new City, with new bad guys." Robin shrugged. "It's a simple mistake."

"A simple mistake that _you_ cleaned up after."

"I have no doubt you would have done the same for me."

She parted her golden threads just enough to look through two gloved fingers and eye him. "Y-Yeah...I guess I would have..."

"You have a lot of experience, Stargirl." Robin said, but he wasn't looking at her. He rarely looked directly at _anyone_. It was like he was always saying one thing and thinking of an entirely different thing at all times—Both hemispheres of the brain working to do two things at once, constantly plotting. A gothic _machine_. "You've got more superhero experience than Victor, certainly more than Raven or Starfire. Even more than Beast Boy, if I'd bet my money on it..."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"Heheheh..." She hugged her knees tighter. "Just _hao long_ have you been doing this sort of thing, Robin?"

"Doesn't matter." He said, his arms hidded saintly under the dark folds of his shouldered cape. "I have so many ways to improve myself."

"You? Improve?"

"Of course." This time he _did_ look at her. It shook the girl to her core. "Nobody would have come even _close_ to having a hole in her or his head if I hadn't scouted the truck out before we fought the men in the jeep."

"They were kind of sort of firing a _rocket_ at us."

"I've had worse thrown at me and yet was faster on my toes. I'm getting careless."

"Eh heh heh..." Stargirl shook her head. "I'm sure the record books would indicate that you had a scared little girl to look after the whole time. Who can blame you for...well..._being distracted?"_

"If Cyborg heard you saying that, he'd say you weren't giving yourself enough credit and that you shouldn't be so hard on yourself."

"And what do _you_ think?"

"I'm not the team leader."

"But what if you _were_...?"

"... ... ...I stand by Cyborg."

Stargirl shook her head, chuckling. A deep breath and she looked down once more at the scene. "I seriously...seriously don't know hao you manage it."

"Manage what?"

"Keeping cool under pressure."

"I would ask the same of you. I've never faced Black Adam and lived to tell about it."

She winced visibly at that. Her left leg twitched. "Yeah...well...not every brush with death is _graceful_."

"I've read up on you quite a bit before you came back here to help reform the team, Stargirl."

She blinked curiously at him. "Y-You did?"

"I read up on everyone," Robin matter-of-factly droned. "Your history is replete with many heroic acts of bravery and self-sacrifice. It's no wonder Victor's put a word in with Dr. Ray."

"What..." She squinted. "What k-kind of **word**, exactly?"

"He thinks you could help Dr. Ray with a bunch of science experiments—utilizing that cosmic rod of yours. We're bound to face all sorts of energies, compounds, and elements in the field. Ray's got a smorgasborg of chemical samples in his laboratory that you can test your rod on. It'd tell us hao to make even better use of your resourcefulness in the field."

"Heh...I guess that _does_ make me feel special. A girl and her stick may be needed sometime to stop Doomsday."

"I wouldn't go that far..." Robin shrugged. "...but your talents are a great asset to this team. That's why you're here—That's why we're all here. To contribute; it fits in with Victor's dream."

"What a fancy dream he has..." Courtney stared down at the reflective image of the half-android below, chattering around heatedly over the phone. "And to think—three mere months ago—the last thing he ever _wanted_ to be was a _**hero**_."

"Irony has its many colors..."

"If I remember right, _**you**_ were the one to talk him out of his funk, Robin."

"Nonsense. I don't talk people out of anything. I nudge."

"Yeah, well, you nudged Victor _good_."

"If you insist."

"... ... ..." Stargirl ran a hand through her hair. She leaned her head to the side. "... ... ...hao old are you, Robin?"

"... ... ... ... ..."

"Erm..." She bit her lip suddenly, braces showing. "I-I'm sorry if that just _came out._ But...It's n-not like I want you to break your hold on your alter ego or nothing...I just... ... ...erm..."

"It's okay..." Robin remarked, shifting a bit where he stood. "Truth is, I'm not old _enough_."

She blinked. "Oh?"

He nodded. "It'll be a good three or four years before I'm at the right age where my muscle-to-body-weight ratio will be just right to hone the skills I need to take on most of my enemies. The chemicals of an average teenager are great for a quick burst—But what I have in the power to _ambush_ I lack in the skill of _endurance_. But, I'm willing to wait, train, and wait some more. It's just like I said—I have many areas in which to improve. It's just a matter of time—For all of us, at least."

"Muscle mass...Body chemicals...Fight skills..." Stargirl shook her head. "Is that syriously _all_ you think about?"

"It's all I _care_ about." Robin said. A beat. Something within him stirred, something obligatory—as if Cyborg's reflection was glinting off of the second-in-command's eyemask from so far a distance. He glanced aside at Stargirl, shifted nervously, and finally throated forth with meager effort: "Aside from a warm plate of waffles, of course."

Stargirl blinked. Her lips pursed and her masked eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute." Another blink. She pointed a gloved hand at Robin. "... ... ...Was that a _joke_...you just said?"

"... ... ...sure, why not."

"It _was_ a joke!" She smiled, then fell into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. "You _actually_ tried to be _funny_ for once!"

"Hardly. Just a pointless side comment," Robin said.

But Stargirl giggled, giggled endlessly, on into the night.

"... ... ... ..." Robin shifted nervously where he stood. He glanced through the corner of his eyemask at her. He murmured: "Uhm..._Was it **funny**?"_

"Mmmm... ... ...Yeah..." She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her head on the side of them again, gazing at him. "...tickled me straight to the bone..." She smiled. A deep warmth formed beneath her cheeks as she...gazed at him.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 6th, 2004)**

Stargirl hovered in the bright, cheerful morning. She skimmed the Eastern Shore of the City, skimming Jump City Beach as she gripped a hand to the Cosmic Rod—her body absorbing the antigravity field like a silken cloak over her fair shoulders. The bright rising Sun glinted over the waves, bounced off the billowing tip of her rod as she skirted past a 'V'-shaped flight of pelicans, dipping over the foam of the sea and sand.

The girl smiled, closed her eyes, inhaled, and reopened them—gazing aside towards a flock of early morning beachgoers squinting and shielding their eyes to see her. A good dozen of them waved excitedly, calling out voices and cries that were muted out by the gently churning waves.

Stargirl waved back, hair twirling in the sun—twice golden—as she basked...basked in it all, finishing an overnight beat of the shipyards, lingering just to savor this moment of moments...

"**It's about the small picture. Really, it is. And I think that's why I must write about this—If nothing else, then to make sure that history—in some fashion or another—knows what we are starting here, or at least trying to start, in the most angelic of hopeful dreams, of allowing people the chance to keep living, to keep dreaming, to keep enjoying the sunrise, that we ourselves treasure so much.**

"**One day, long before my secret identity was exposed, and while on a jog through Blue Valley park, listening to my favorite tracklist, a white girl called out from behind me. At first, I gave her a double-glance, thinking that she was trying to call for the two people strolling in front of me. Whatever the case, I slowed down, pulled out my ear buds, and squinted hard—trying to figure out if I knew this Caucasian stranger from some place. Well, she didn't know me, but she waved with a pert, smiling 'hi there' and proceeded to chat me up about the day, the rainy weather we were having, Half-Day—_the name of my favorite band at the time, it was on my shirt._**

"**Naturally, I reacted like anyone would when approached by a perfect stranger who finds a t-shirt or the weather overhead to be a center of conversation. I briefly asked her if she was selling something, or if she was trying to recruit me for some college, or if she was simply a goodly young evangelist—_she did ask me at one point about my spiritual life, though remarkably she didn't press the topic any_. After all of my attempts to shake her from me, as politely as I could manage amidst my mixed confusion and curiosity, I found that she was still tagging along with me, trying persistently—but not annoyingly—to carry on with some friendly banter. Finally, missing my music and relaxing jog, I dismissed her, wishing her a 'good day', and ran right along—briefly fiddling through my sweatshort pockets to see if I've somehao been expertly tagged or pickpocketed or something.**

"**Isn't that sad? Somebody perfectly harmless and friendly interrupts me in the middle of my lonely, musically cocooned routine and the only thing I can do is suspect the worst. It threw my whole afternoon off too. I quite visibly remember looking over my shoulder over and over again in mid-jog—just to see if she was trailing me or some crud. I began to speculate if she was some bizarre stalker, murderous psychopath, or conniving cult inductor. Because—who in their right mind these days walks up to you, in the middle of the day, and—without provocation—tries to have a cheerful conversation, when you could very well be hovering about in the daily malaise of your music and moodiness, imprisoned by the same helpless thoughts that rightfully hold the jailor's keys to every planned day of your planned life?**

"**I went home early. The sickest part was when I realized that I had never considered that, perhaps, she was needing something. Food? A few dollars for cab fair? A place to stay for the night? The sickness came heaviest when I realized that if she was someone else entirely, then these paranoid thoughts would have been my _first_ instinct. Had she, perhaps, instead been an African American woman with dirty sneakers, or a hispanic girl in a dirty tank top—could such tiny variables have made me talked to the stranger any less, or worse—not at all?**

"**The small things of this world get to me the most; that something so innocent, poking gently into the great apathetic thick of this civilization, would reduce me to a blabbering idiot, would throw about me the impervious walls of fear and distrust, would make me go home early rather than enjoy the rest of the day in the Sun, enjoying myself, as I had always planned to do, as I always had the opportunity to do, had this harmless and happy person intercepted me or not.**

"**In my career with the JSA, I've fought and defeated nazis, I've whisked people away from earthquakes, I've stopped robbers, arrested murderers, put out fires, and saved hundreds—if not thousands—of lives. And yet, to this day, in spite of all of my superheroic accomplishments, in light of all the praises heaped upon the name of the Star Spangled Kid, I shall forever and ever feel bad about what happened that day in that park, for what I let happen and not happen, for hao I became part of the big picture, a programmed victim to the great uncaring ghost of normal life, a cog in some huge creaking wheel of apathy.**

"**Today, I look towards the small picture. Because—when you look too hard at the _big picture_, you rest your dreams—and your nightmares—on an abstract goal, so much so that you overlook the concrete pleasantries and needs of the scenery around you. It's because of this that I left the JSA—and it's because of this that I joined Victor's Team.**

"**Nao he talks to me of some elusive Underworld that we're chasing. Already, I've let a small glimpse of the little picture slip past me—and I nearly suffered a bullet in the head for such blindness. When I talk to people like Ruth Beltram, when I hear people chanting hymns to me and quoting the Book of Job with a naked voice—not a booming prophecy—I see so many fragile bodies, and fragile hearts—and there's a dark world full of bullets looming above them all.**

"**I'll do my duty for my king and country—my android boss of the streets and lights—but not if it means losing sight of the things we're sweating our fannies off for. But that's something I'll always be personally responsible for. Besides, if Robin is a mere human—and his brain can function in two hemispheres—then why can't mine do the same? And before you bother making a blonde joke, hold your pen. I'm not done fitting in with this team, and I'm not done writing to you."**

A roar of waves, and Stargirl briefly snapped from her midair trance.

She glanced westward—over the sunkissed rooftops of the City—and remembered that Cyborg had finally scheduled the long awaiting training session.

And she was ten minutes and ten miles away.

With a burning burst of cosmic energy, the Star Spangled Kid twirled the rod, aimed the rod away from the Sun, and barreled over the ceiling of Jump City like a shooting comet.

Heading home.


	6. Fellowship part 2

**(April 22nd, 2004)**

Courtney yawned, rubbed one of her eyes, and blinked tyredly at the fifth consecutive sheet of paper bearing her handwriting. As the concrete walls of the Bunker settled around her, she turned her head to glance over her shoulder, and smiled slightly at the comforting sight of the bed. She reached over from the chair, grabbed one of the crutches, tucked the pad of paper under one arm, and hobbled over to the bed—slumping down and reclining with the stationary nao propped up against her good knee.

A deep breath, a twirl of her pen, and she continued from where she left off:

"**Green Lantern used to push us in the JSA really hard while training. Not that it mattered much; Wildcat is always going the extra mile, and Flash has everything so perfected that I syriously doubt training does anything more for him than slow him down. I, of course, could only benefit from practicing my skills before using them in the open field. But, with Green Lantern, everything is so regimental. He has an exact exercise planned for every member of the team with all parts of the process methodically put together in a draft of sorts.**

"**Not that I'm complaining—mind you. I've always up for the challenge. But, it would later occur to me that there's very little point in a training session where you know what you're going to do and when you're going to do it. Life is all about unpredictability, isn't it? Well, I know that _you_ don't have much faith in coincidences, but I like to think that God allows chaos to keep us on our toes, and see if we're up to the challenge of living.**

"**The way the Titans train—the raw and improvisational nature of it—the reliance on individual finesse and demonstration—the lack of resources and settings—it's a bizarre form of training I've never before encountered. And, if you ask me, that's the best sort of training I could ever ask for."**

**(April 6th, 2004)**

_Thw-Thw-Thw-THWP!_ Stargirl twirled the cosmic rod and deflected a metal sphere wrapped in black telekinesis. **Cl-Clang!** She spun, raised the rod overhead, deflected two more spheres—**WH-WHACK!**-and scrunched down into a kneeling position as she raised the rod once more to knock a fourth sphere off kilter. _**Thwack!**_

From across the wide, metal-laced room in the second story of Phaser Labs, Raven hovered in a meditative, cross-legged position. Arms folded in her lap, she reached mentally forth around her and deftly pitched projectile after projectile towards the sweating Star Spangled Kid—much of them being deflected spheres returning back to the fray.

Stargirl jumped up, backflipped, and came down with the golden rod swinging in a wide swath—_**CL-CLANG!**_ She skidded back on her knees, caught the charge of another sphere with the body of the staff, gritted her braced teeth, and shoved back just before swiftly knocking the projectiles away with a high-kick. _CL-CLACK!_

The spheres retracted, swarmed in a loop, and suddenly came at her from all sides. _Sw-Sw-Swiiish!_

"Eeep!" She sweated, dug the rod into the ground, pole-vaulted up, dodged the diving spheres, and levitated in mid-air as she zapped at the various, flinging objects from afar. _**Flash! FL-FLash!**_

"Thatta girl, Courtney," Victor marched down the undisturbed sideline of the metal theatre. "Don't forget; ranged energy blasts is your greatest surprise strength. You might swing that staff like the star of a prize winning home run derby—but don't let your other talents slip!"

"Wh-Who's sl-slipping?" Stargirl panted, panted, tightly turning and zapping each of the projectiles before Raven could fling them into her forehead.

Through the girl's masked peripheral vision, she could make out Beast Boy circling Robin in a matted circle. The elfling cracked his neck joints and smiled. The Boy Wonder was expressionless. With a deep, gasping breath—Beast Boy turned into a warthog, ground his hooves, and stomped violently towards the caped crusader.

"... ... ..." Robin waited, waited, waited, and stepped aside at the last second—yanking upward on one of Beast Boy's tusks with the briefest of brief touches. It was fast enough and expertly timed enough to send the green metamorph careening out of the circular mat altogether, and rolling over on his hairy hide. Robin turned and gazed at the sprawling mammal. The warthog got back up, snorted, and turned into a python. He hissed, slithered, and freight-train'd straight towards the Boy Wonder.

Robin waited...waited... ...waited. And just as the green serpent was upon him, he produced his bo-staff. _Snkkkt!_ The snake circled viciously around Robin—But the Boy Wonder pole-vaulted out at the last second, keeping the metal staff in place so that when the python constricted—it got nothing but metal. With his hand still reached in, Robin flicked a wrist—and an eletric bolt from the glove was sent into the staff. The python's skeleton showed temporarily, and it unraveled like deflating yarn...eventually pooling into a groaning elf that sat squat on the mat, rubbing his head. "Unnnnghhhh—ohhh..."

_Th-Thwp!_ Robin landed, twirled the bo-staff—Clank! And leaned against it with a sigh...waiting.

The green elf frowned over his shoulder... ... ... ...and then smirked. Garfield Logan qadrupled in size with a deep, throaty growl. He stalked Robin in bear form, his snarl coming forth as a mixed chuckle.

"... ..." Robin's eyemask narrowed on him.

The bear sprung at Robin from across the circle, clawed arms reaching-

-Robin pommel'horse'd off the bear's hairy shoulders, flipped in the air, and landed on two feet just within the circle.

The bear spun to swing a fur'd fist at him—only to be blocked fearlessly by a green glove. The bear blinked, his fist resting against Robin's fist, as both sparring partners froze in a moment of bodily contacting absurdity. It went on for two seconds too long, and Robin's index finger suddenly wrapped around one of the bear's claws—and twisted in the _wrong_ way. _Scrkkt!_ The bear went googly eyed as the painful jolt made its entire body lunge forward—and into the tip of Robin's bo-staff, straight to the gut. The air exited swiftly out of the bear's lungs as it was heaved in one blurring motion up into the air, over Robin's body, and deposited loudly onto the metal floor outside the mat. _**THUD!**_

"Gotta work on what you change into, BB..." Victor paced by the sparring circle. "If it's not an extinct species—odds are Robin has fought it. Go figure, huh?" He smirked slightly.

"Nnnnghh—Dude!" Beast Boy shrunk back into a wincing elf, rubbing his gut, inhaling, and cackling forth above the surrounding cacophony of the training youngsters: "I was a frickin' bear! What gives?"

"Your form, for one." Robin dryly remarked. "I know you're gifted with being a hundred thousand animals at the drop of a hat—but it doesn't hurt to _mix it up_ like a **human**. Try faking me out or using a tactic that your chosen animal form normally wouldn't do."

Beast Boy squinted at the caped crusader. "Y-You're my sparring partner. By giving me tips to use on you, doesn't that mean you're going to kick my little green butt all the more?"

"... ... ..." Robin icily shrugged. "Probably so."

The changeling's teeth glistened. "Alright..." He grinned. "Tell me—Hao many cages in the Gotham Zoo house a T-Rex?"

"Why, none whatsoever-" **STOMP! STOMP! **_**STOMP!**_ Robin's masked face tilted up. "Oh, I see what you did there."

A giant emerald dinosaur loomed over Robin, its huge jaws gaping forward with a gigantic growl. The behemoth metamorph could barely fit within the circular mat as it tightened its legs and lunged towards the Boy Wonder-

_**Pffft!**_ Robin shot a grappling hook, barely moving from where he stood. **_Th-Th-Thwpp!_** The cord wrapped around the tyrannosaur's mouth, snapping the jaws shut. The Boy Wonder yanked hard to the side. The dinosaur went wide eyed as it tripped and collapsed across the metal floor in a sparkling grind. Robin jumped and perched on the creature's twitching shoulders.

"You're right about the zoo cages. But the Batcave, haoever..."

Victor shook his head, paced on, and glanced aside as he spotted Starfire in open combat with a series of metal pistons extending from a corner of the titanium interior.

With hisses of hydraulics, several metal stalks shoved outward from the ground, walls, and ceiling—each equipped with a low frequency laser beam. The various objects shot and zapped at the Tamaranian girl in a carefully timed chaos.

The girl snarled, spun, and flung starbolt after starbolt in a criss-crossing web of experienced trajectory—Knocking each cylinder back into its respective sheath. A growl, and she kicked one loose, snapped it—sparkling—from its frame, and swung it like a club into two more, causing a huge explosion that rocked her half of the training room.

Victor winced. "Uh...Star? The whole point was to test dexterity—not smack a hole in the laboratory."

"What difference does it make?" The girl hissed. Two more pistons shot out and zapped at her. She dodged, twirled in mid-air, and brought her fists down on both-"HAAAUGH!"-denting them. _CL-CLANGG!_

"Nnnngh..." Victor palmed his forehead, then smirked. "Guess it's time you fought something not so destructable." He brought a hand up to his wrist and hit an appropriate button. With a chime, the laser sights on the cylinders burned out, and they all retracted into their holes—the ones that could, at least.

Starfire hovered a foot above the ground, panting, panting, sweating, then smiling: "Glorious exercise, Victor!" She turned around. "I do believe I have verily vanquished the wicked tubes-" Her green eyes widened.

"RAAAAUGH!" Cyborg came in with a charging shoulder.

_**WHUMP!**_ He shoved, shoved, shoved Starfire across the length of the room and into a metal wall.

"OOMF!" She winced, pinned to the glossy surface by his girth.

"Don't _ever_ be surprised when the situation at hand turns on you!" Victor expertly lectured, applying his full weight. "Training is an illusion! Nothing in the real world is cookie cutter or easy-"

**GRIP!** Her fingers found his forearm. She snarled momentarily, then grinned into his face.

Victor blinked. "Oboy."

"HRAAAAUGH!" Koriand'r flung him upwards by the shoulder so hard, he flipped three times before landing in an awkward slide across the floor. "So, at last, a combat exercise most deserving of my qualities...!"

"Hey, nao, I didn't say that you had to go nuclear on me-" Victor sweatdropped.

"Jasuul for'blaaguut de X'hal!" Starfire's eyes burned like the Sun as she surged towards him in a fiery plume.

"HOSNAP!" Cyborg raised a fist—**CLANG!**-absorbed the blow, slid back on two sparkling feet, spun a three sixty—and swung his fist at her. "Back at ya, girl!"

"Mmmngh!" She deflected his fist up and returned with one of her own—_**SMACK!**_

Cyborg's metal head spun once, twice. _Clack!_ He caught his skull still with three fingers, squeakily rotating it towards Starfire in a frown. "Oh, nao you're gonna get it!" _Cl-Cl-Clak!_ He produced a sonic cannon, ducked her kick, slid towards her on two knees, grabbed her forearm with one hand and shoved the cannon deep into her midriff. "**This** will give you a belly button!" He blew her a kiss. **FLAAAASH!**

"Unnngh!" The sonic propulsion sent her sailing straight up into the ceiling. **THUD!** She shook it off like a surprise hiccup—red hair fanning—and kicked off the metal beams with her feet, sailing down at Cyborg. "And _this_ will make you wish you had wings!"

"Whatever you say, girl-" Cyborg smirked, readying two joined fists-

_SWOOOSH!_ But Starfire dove low, flew between his legs, hand-planted into the ground behind him, and donkey-kicked him in the square of his back. _**CLANK!**_

"YAAAH!" The half-android flailed, sailing the length of the room. He plummeted towards a certain sorceress. "Heads up, Raven-!"

The girl didn't so much as open her meditatively closed eyes. She simply hovered three feet to the left while telekinetically manipulating the spheres.

"Oh, you smug little-" _**CONGGG!**_ Cyborg meteorite'd into the floor, toppled, and ended with his back against the wall. "Unnngh..." He reeled, flying toasters spinning orbit around his head. He shook the cobwebs loose in time to see Starfire roaring towards him.

"Is this not the most optimistic fury you wish to see utilized in the battield?" She grinned, readying a burning fist at the end of her thunderous dive.

"Learn shorter words, girl!" Cyborg smirked and aimed one arm at her. _**POWW!**_ His hand detached at the end of a cord and rocketed her way.

"H-Huh?" She hovered suddenly in mid-air, taken back by the tactic. The cord'd arm wrapped around her midriff a dozen times and pulled taut, binding her in midair. She struggled briefly and beamed. "Oh, glorious move, Vict-(**YANK)**-_orrrrrrrrr!"_ She wailed as Cyborg retracted the cord until she was within a birthday pinata's length and-

**RRRGH!** He spun with a kick. _**WHACK!**_

Starfire spun three times in midair like a zero-gravity bowling pin. But before she could collapse into the metal floor-

_**GRIP!**_ Cyborg reached a hand out, grasping her ankle.

Starfire hung upside down, her fiery red hair barely kissing the metal floor of the laboratory training room. "... .. ..." She blinked her two glowing emeralds curiously up at Cyborg. "...if I did not know better, I would think that you were toying with me more than teaching me."

"Well, heck, Star-" Cyborg smirked crookedly. "The last thing I wish to do is **hurt** you."

"Then is our session of the spar over?"

"Well, not exactly-"

"Affirmative." Starfire's eyes strobed. She aimed a palm up at Cyborg's shoulder. _**FLASH!**_ A starbolt neatly sailed into his joint, causing the limb to spark and detach with a **_POP!_**

"DAH! I just greased that thing this morning—_**Mmmmfmfff!**_" Victor was suddenly muffled, for in the same span of two and a half seconds, Koriand'r had kicked herself loose of Cyborg's grip, uprighted herself in mid-air, and stuck three of the detached hand's fingers into the team leader's mouth. "Mmmfmm-Mmmmff!"

She pressed against the finger-gagged android, applying more weight on the detached limb. "I could verily do the same with your other limb..." She sweatily smirked. "...but I doubt the opposite end of your body would cooperate."

Victor rolled his human eye. His one good hand snapped a finger. A series of sparks issued through the detached limb from a remote signal.

"H-Huh?" Koriand'r innocently blinked. The detached shoulder-stub in front of her glowed suddenly and—_**PHWOOOOMB!**_-a ring of miniature rocket jets ignited, burning her eyebrows and covering her face in soot. "Aackies! Ptooie! Ptooie!"

"BLEACHK!" Cyborg spit his detached arm out, grabbed it in the other hand, and lightly jabbed it straight into Starfire's gut. _**WHUMP!**_

"Oommmffffff-" Starfire's eyes dimmed suddenly as the air was forced from her lungs. She hugged herself and fell to her knees.

Cyborg re-attached his limb and slumped down to the wall right next to Starfire, still spitting and sputtering. "Pffft.. ...Bleakkt...Whew! If I had fingernails, I'd be cleaning them." He patted a hand exhaustingly on Starfire's shoulder. "You okay, girl?"

"_Never better..."_ The Tamaranian said hoarsely, barely above a whisper. Thin eyes teared in the corners a bit, but framed a weak smile as she too slumped down next to him. "D-Do forgive me if..._nnngh_...if I was too savage in my attempts to overwhelm you..."

"It's all part of the training, girl. And besides..." He flexed his reattached limb, testing the motors. "...I'd rather you take it out on me than on the equipment of Phaser Labs. I can afford to lose a few nuts and bolts here and there. Dr. Ray's pocketbook can't."

"I do concur." She nodded, gaining back her lung capacity. "It is an interesting thing—your Terran economics. Here we are, training in a remarkable facility that has been provided for us, and yet—in spite of the staff's full knowledge of our destructive capabilities—they are not allowed the funds needed to properly test our full strength."

"It's not about allowance, Star. Not exactly, that is..." Victor rubbed the human side of his head as a few telekinetic spheres soared past them both, followed by golden energy blasts. "I chose to have us work with Dr. Ray cuz I consider him a man of integrity—and I respect his team as well. Just because we're _here—_though-doesn't mean that we're all going to get a heap of money to pour into this facility! And Stonetech can only do so much."

"Does the City not want our skills to aid them?" Koriand'r asked. "Would it not be beneficial for them to lend funds to our cause?"

Victor smiled. "Star, we've got to _earn_ tribute—be it monetary or not. In the meantime, we must make do. _Ptooie..._" He spat out a lasting flake of metal and picked at his teeth. "Aungh..._Aunngh_—**Even** if it means taking it out on each other's skulls and not on the equipment."

"Hmmph..." She crossed her arms on her knees. "That hardly seems fair."

"We're here in Jump City to keep things _safe_..." Cyborg said. "Not _fair_." He stood up. "Come on. I do have one piece of equipment that I hoisted here from my old laboratory. I think it could be of help in gauging just hao much _oomf_ we've all got."

"Verily, friend Victor." Starfire smiled and hovered up next to him. "Carry forth with the _oomfing_."

"I will." Cyborg nodded. "Just as soon as the others are-"

"_**Waaaaaaugh!**_" A collapsing green octopus slammed into the ground and ragdolled ten feet past the two in the form of a moaning elf. "...unghh..."

"...-done training." Cyborg blinked. He glanced at would-be-octopus, then frowned at Robin. "Ain't you at least giving him a single _chance?"_

Robin stood neatly in the center of the circular mat. His arms shrugged from under the cold folds of the cape. "I just gave him _eight_."

"Nnnngh..." Beast Boy hobbled up to his feet. "Okay...That's it..." He cracked his knuckles. "Best out of twenty-three!"

Cyborg rested a hand on his shoulder. "Easy, little man. You'll get your chance another day."

"Uh uh! I'm not finished with Red Ranger yet! One more time! Crowbars at twenty paces!"

"Beast Boy-"

"I mean it! Someone gimme a knight in shining armor to put on my back—And we'll trample him across the English countryside!"

"You're dazed and confused."

"_Forsolongit'snottrue-"_ Beast Boy bonked himself dizzily in the head. "Dayum...I th-think you're right."

Robin slid over, cape and all. "You know...one time when Entrigan went missing in the South of France, Batman and I actually _did _go and fight knights in shining-"

"Oh go hatch an egg!" The green one howled.

"Shhh—Eyes up, y'all." Cyborg gestured up past the others' heads. "Here comes the thrilling conclusion to the superheroic reenactment of Britney Spears vs the Paparazzi."

"_I_..._HEARD_..._THAT!_" Stargirl panted, twirled in mid-air, spun the cosmic rod, fired a few golden shots, and barely skirted past the twirling balls of telekinetic doom that she couldn't hit. "Raven, any chance you could ease up just _a little_ on the McDonald's playpen of doom?"

"... mmmm..." Raven merely murmured, eyes calmly shut, floating, floating, floating—bolts of dark energy shooting out at random intervals from her chakra. "A warm, breezy beach..." She murmured in a distant breath. "... ... ...and life guards with leathery wings..."

"Only way to finish the session is to finish _her_!" Cyborg said.

"Will do!" The Star Spangled Kid cried. The metal spheres circled faster around Stargirl—darting inward with random flings. The blonde panted, deflected with the hilt of the Cosmic Rod, flipped in mid-air, bicycle kicked two more, then finally resorted to flying the long length of the room. The balls trailed after her...forming a line. This was exactly as intended. At the end of her flight, Stargirl planted her feet against a wall, stood sideways, and sprung her rod up in two tightly gripping gloves. "Batter up!" _THWOOSH!_ **CL-CL-CLANNNNNG!** Stargirl mightily deflected all of the balls back. They soared across the room, reducing the facility to a giant pool table from hell. And at the end of their violent, obsidian hurdle-

_**THWOOOOOSH!**_

-Raven's eyes opened. Half a dozen metal spheres stopped just inches from her floating pale forehead. Half a second later—_CL-CLANK!_-Stargirl touched down right in front of the sorceress and aimed her golden rod at the nape of the petite girl's neck.

"... ... ..." Stargirl panted, grinning. "So... ... ...what do you think, Raven? Do I deserve you to be _hardcore_ next time?"

Raven merely squinted at her, boredly. She flicked a gentle wrist.

_**FLASH!**_ "H-Hey! What gives-?" Stargirl gasped, but lost control of her Cosmic Rod as the entire weapon was encased in black telekinesis. The metal device shot up into the air, circle about, and then came to a thunderous stop just an inch from the blonde's sweating forehead. The six metal spheres encircled her. "... ... ..." Courtney bit her lip.

"... ... ..." Raven liquidly touched down to her petite feet, adjusted her robe, and strolled past Stargirl. "Hardcore enough for you?"

"Erm..." Courtney blinked, then exhaled long and hard. "A little _dirty_ _cruel_...but sure."

"Think about it the day you decide to battle a telekinetick magic wielder in the field **for real**."

Courtney frowned over her shoulder. "Pfft...yeah? The only thing _for real_ about you is your cameltoe."

**BONK!** The rod was dropped on Courtney's head.

"Ouch!"

_Cl-Clang!_

She rubbed her golden skull and bent over to pick up the staff, retracting it and slipping it into her belt with a sigh.

"Gather around, people...!" Cyborg motioned with his wide, metal arms. "I got something I want to show ya!"

"If it's the mating ritual of refrigerators—I want out." Beast Boy grumbled.

"Out of the gutter and into the frying pan." Cyborg waved towards a large metallic device about the size of a van. The contraption resembled a huge black dumpster—bolted to the floor in over two dozen places—and its entire right side consisted of a gigantic extended metal plank that hung on steely hinges. "This gauges the amount of force we apply to the _target_ here and assigns it a numerical value. I had it moved in here from my own personal exercise romps in order to get the best use out of it."

"Oh, so it's an _oomf_ meter." Beast Boy smirked. "You could have just said that."

"An intelligent man knows hao to smexily introduce something awesome."

"And what about an awesome robot?"

"I'll bend you to fit a car door later. Anywho-" Cyborg gestured towards the huge mechanical thing-a-ma-jig. "All you have to do is approach it like so and...yanno..._**love **_on it."

"And to what extent do you express your amorous affections?" Starfire asked, hands folded innocently together.

"Like **so**." Cyborg grinned wide, tightened his torso, shifted his feet like a boxer, and—_Thwooosh_-threw his fist straight into the broad metal plank. _**CLANGG!**_

The hinges bent, shifted. A whurring noise, blinking lights, and a bright monitor lit up on the side of the scale: _'__**985.5'**_

"Impressive. It shoots numbers out." Raven blinked. She glanced steely over at Victor. "What does it _mean_, exactly?"

"It means I've got a locomotive in a single fist—Or at least the blunt power of one hitting the thang at high speed." Cyborg pumped a fist, winking. "But, hell, I was just giving the thing a love tap."

"_Again, with this oxymoronic labeling of affection-!"_

"While we're down here, training, I want each and every one of us to pay this thing respects. If we do so on a constant basis, Heck, we'll have a meter for our strength of buttwhooping in no time!"

Beast Boy nodded. "Does it produce tickets faster than skiball?"

"Don't lemme find you shoving tokens into none of my training equipment!"

"But I want the giraffe beanie babyyyyy..." Beast Boy ramped up the melodrama.

Stargirl giggled. "Ahem—Just hao high does it go?"

"I've yet to find out." Cyborg smirked. "With each month, my upper arm strength gets better and better. And who says Windows is the only thing to update?"

"That's a good question." Beast Boy nodded. "_Who_ _**does**_ say that Windows is the only thing to-?"

"BUT-" Cyborg went on. "I figured we could all test this thang out together. But let's start **low** and work our way **up** to the top. Robin?"

Everyone flashed the Boy Wonder a look.

"... ... ..." His eyemask narrowed at everyone. "... ...thank you, Victor." He sighed and unfurled his hands from his cape.

"Anytime, squirt," Victor winked. "Go give it one for Gotham."

Robin marched up towards the giant black box, cracking his gloved knuckles. "... ... I assume you don't want this to be tool-assisted."

"Then hao else would Cyborg have gotten a fist in?" Beast Boy smirked. "He's a walking tool if I ever saw one."

"Hey Robin, you can use Garfield's face if you like."

"_Eek! I take that back! You're the toolMAN!"_

"_Hee hee hee!"_

"_Heheheh."_

"_Just punch it already..."_

"Right..." Robin squinted at the plank, his fists up. "It certainly _looks_ like any other brick wall." He focused, tightened his muscles, froze... ... ...then: "Hpp!" A hard right hook.

_**Cl-Clank!**_

The hinge shook slightly. The machine whurred. Then: _**'98.2'**_

"Ooooh...Weak." Beast Boy exhaled.

"Not in the least. That's about four times as good as average manpower." Cyborg said. He glanced over at Robin. "I know you're just _twitching_ to switch limbs, dawg."

"I can use the Foot?" Robin asked.

"You can use the Foot."

"Well, in that case-" Robin snarled, spun, and flung his boot up: _**"HRAAAUGH!"**_

**CLUNK!**

The machine ticked rapidly. The monitor flashed: _**'219.0'**_

"There ya go!" Stargirl smiled bracedly.

"Glorious!"

"Way to fling it, Robin!" Beast Boy gave a thumb's up. "Four hundred points and you'd be a regular Rey Mysterio!"

"Yeah, what he said..." Robin finally lowered his still-vibrating boot and retreated once more to shadows and cape. "...who's next in your sideshow?"

"None other than the mistress of misery herself!" Cyborg gestured towards the group.

Everyone parted ways, revealing Raven in the center. She glanced boredly left and right. "Oh." She blinked. "You mean me."

"I certainly don't see Ann Coulter in the room."

"Cute." Raven shuffled up to bat, squinting at the metal hinges. "So, what am I supposed to do to this thing again?"

"Headbutt it!" Beast Boy jumped, flapping his hands about. "Let's see if that skull rock of yours is good for anything besides giving a Polaroid red-eye!"

"Whatever." Raven mightily unfurled her arm, tensed her upper body upon the brink of destruction... ... ...and slapped it.

_Thap._

The machine barely registered: _**'2.1'.**_

"Uhm...Raven?" Cyborg rubbed the human part of his head. "Were you _hitting_ the machine or chastising it for cheating on another witch?"

"What do you expect me to do?" Raven droned, arms and legs limply accentuating her dainty attire. "These hands are made for sipping tea, not punching holes in trash compactors. I let my telekinesis do all the work."

"Then find a way to bridge the gap! I've seen you do it before! That night when we trashed the Gordanian invaders—You had boxing gloves made out of that soul-glow-crap!"

"It's called **soul-self**," Raven glared with clenching fists. "And pugilistically flaying a giant slab of metal is certainly very different than fighting swarms of violent sentient reptiles within an inch of one's life."

"Yesssss..." Beast Boy cooed, forcing Stargirl to hide her snickering face. His green arms gestured wickedly. "Letttt the hatredddd flow through yyyyyou."

"Your **funeral**." Raven's eyes glowed. She spun, summoned a talon of black telekinesis, and ensnared it around her wrist in time for a murderous black punch into the machine—_**CRAKOWWW!**_

"Eeep!" Beast Boy fell to his rear end, blinking.

The monitor staticky flickered: _**'305.2'**_

"There, you happy?" Raven muttered.

"Positively jubilant," Cyborg smirked. "Wanna use your sexy leg like Robin?"

"Drop dead."

"Well, alright!"

"You okay, Beast Boy?" Stargirl helped the dazed elf up. "You _told_ her to let her anger flow!"

"Well, she got something flowing, alright." The changeling cleared his throat. "Remind me never to get into a pillow fight with you, Raven."

"I cannot for the life of me fathom a situation that could ever orchestrate the likelihood of that circumstance possibly occuring."

"Feh...I've been put down worse. Hao about Braces and Laces here?"

Stargirl blinked at him. "What did you just call me-?"

"Good idea. Courtney!" Victor motioned with his arm. "You're at bat."

"Softball or hardball?" She stepped up.

Victor's brow furrowed. "Girls in Blue Valley pitch overhand?"

"What choice do we have? They put _the vending machines too high_ in the girls' restrooms." She stuck a tongue out at him. "Jeez, Vic. What do you want from me?"

"A good kick or a shove—Erm-Preferably to the machine, eheh."

"Can do-" Stargirl got into a kickboxing stance. "Though...it's kinda unfair. All my strength comes from this Cosmic Converter Belt that I'm wearing."

"And here I thought all your strength came from your midriff," Raven said.

"Ah, so you've forgiven me for the cameltoe joke earlier!"

"Not at all. I just think your outfit is goofy looking."

"Hey Beast Boy! Guess what?" Stargirl gnashed her wired teeth. "I found my **flow**!" She spun, pivoted, and slammed her boot hard into the black metal.

_**CLANGGG!**_

The meter spun, then flickered on the monitor: _**'412'**_

"Woo!" Beast Boy pumped his fist. "You go, girl!"

"Marvelous display of ferocity, friend Courtney!"

Stargirl nodded, straightened her hair, and glanced Raven's way. "Thanks."

"Anytime." The sorceress slurred back. "Your outfit's still goofy."

"Duly noted." Stargirl sauntered over. She glanced to the side. "B.B.-?"

"IN A WORLD GONE MAD WITH POWERLUST-" He tightroped walked in on an invisible line, arms spread.

"Dear Azar, here we go..." Raven palmed her face. Starfire giggled.

"-AS ALL CIVILIZATION RESTS UPON THE BRINK OF WEAKNESS AND PHYSICAL DEPRAVITY-" The elf twirled.

"_Is it considered a crime to skin an elf?"_

"_On my planet, long eared tube rats are considered a fine smoked delicacy-"_

"-ONE SEXY GREEN SUPERFLY, AGAINST ALL ODDS-"

"_Oh give us a break-"_

"-WILL GO TOE TO TOE WITH THE BLACK MONOLITH, AND COME THROUGH VICTORIOUS-"

"_Black monolith? Is he going to drop kick a PS2?"_

"_Shhh—Don't encourage him!"_

"-OR DIE TRYING!" Beast Boy punctuated his narration with a tooth-glinting grin. "Watch...and learn..."

"Learn what?" Raven droned. "Hao not to reproduce?" Stargirl snorted and leaned on Cyborg for support.

"Nuts to you! Nuts to the human race! And nuts to the Second Law of Thermodynamics!" At the end of his cackle, he spun, twirled into a gigantic stegosaurus, and flung the full weight of his spikes into the heart of the machine. _**SMACKKKKK!**_

The room shook. The metal walls rang. Starfire hovered in midair to avoid wobbling on her knees.

When the vaporous bubble of disturbed air finally settled from the impact—people blinked to see the monitor flickering: _**'1203.3'**_

The stegosaurus leapt in the air, flipped in the form of an elf, and landed in a victorious pose. "Ha! Ya like that, machine? Eat that with your Bacon Bits, you son of a drunken anvil!" He stood up, adjusted his jumpsuit, and winked slyly at the womenfolk. "It's best to instill the fear of God into it, or else decades from nao, when I'm an old and rich pimp living in some Costa Rican villa, dozens of the machine's children will come marching up on metal legs with bats and knives to avenge their wounded parent."

"You're a living catastrophe." Raven glared at him..

"Love ya too."

"Whew!" Cyborg rubbed his forehead. "Gotta admit, B.B.! That was a lot more _oomf_ than I took you for!"

"Damn straight it is! It sure showed your tin can hao to smack a black box!"

"Granted..." Cyborg rolled his eyes with a hapless smirk. "I wasn't even _trying_ earlier."

"Well, fine, then, Cassius Clay! Step right up and show us what you got if you're so badass!"

"I would take you to school in a _heartbeat_, ya grass stain—But that's not the point of what we're doing here."

"What is the point of what we're doing here?" Raven remarked.

"The point is not to repeat what I say in redundant _sarcasm_." Cyborg hissed briefly at her, then turned to Starfire. "Kory? You're the last one up for good reason. Show us what you've got! I'm sure we'll be floored."

"Yeah, Kory!" Stargirl nudged her with an elbow. "Put Beast Boy in his place!"

"_And just whose side are you on?"_

"It's only fair you have your turn, Star..." Robin murmured from the shadows. "The sooner you do, the sooner Cyborg will have us doing something important."

"Hey!" Victor shrugged his shoulders mightily. "Who says we can't test our mettle and have some fun while we're at it?"

"I can name a clown or to-"

"Quit while you're ahead, dawg." Cyborg held a hand up to the Boy Wonder, then turned to smirk at Starfire. "Well, Kory? Whatcha waiting for?"

The Tamaranian warrioress bit her lip in a sudden pensiveness. "I...I do truly _truly_ value the point of this rudimentary exercise, but I think that it would be a deleterious thing to have me 'step up to the batting' like the rest of you..."

"Since when?" Beast Boy grinned. "We're all in this together, Star! No exceptions! Unless you're _scared_ to punch like a _guy_ in front of everyone!"

The alien warrioress thunderously stomped her foot in a sudden frown, echoing across the interior. "I am **not afraid** to **exert** my **force** in the fashion of **any gender** or **creature** of **X'hal's Creation!**" She sighed and folded her arms. "But, dearest Victor, the lecture you were giving me earlier-"

"What's the worse that can happen?" Cyborg smirked. "This thing can handle twenty locomotives! I know! I punch it twenty times for breakfast, lunch, _and_ dinner! Unless you've got a supernova hidden under that blouse of yours-"

"Just hit it already." Raven droned.

Starfire touched her opposite fingers together, then took a deep breath. "All right, then." The alien girl padded up to the big black machine, gave it a once over, blinked, then gently moved her amber fist in its direction-

_**POW****!.!.!.!.!.!**_

The black metal box flew off all two dozen hinges. It hurtled across the training room. It sailed through a metal wall—barreling into one laboratory, a second, and a third—sending random scientists flailing about and gasping in horror and confusion. As the thunder and invisible lightning settled over the fresh Ground Zero—Starfire stood still, in place, her skirt settling from the artificial wind. She raised the thin fist that she had just wielded, then bit her knuckle in a silent embarrassment.

Cyborg blinked, sweatdropped, and turned a bit pale. "Okay... ...so she has a supernova in her blouse."

"I... ...I apologie for my 'oomf'...Victor..."

"Wh-What's to apologize, for, girl?" Beast Boy murmured, staring at the fresh, crumbling hole in the side of the training area. "It's heartwarming to know that we've got the Tunguska Explosion on our team."

"Okay, _nao_ he is reaching..." Raven murmured. A beat. She glanced aside curiously to see a dazed Boy Wonder. "...Robin?" Silence. She waved a thin hand in front of his face. "Earth to Robin...?"

"Hmm. Oh...Uh...Sorry..." His wide eyemask narrowed to normality as he looked away from the Tamaranian. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

"She's strong. Isn't she?"

"Answers my question..." Raven turned towards Cyborg. "I know this may be bad timing and all—But can we break for lunch?"

"Emphasis on 'break'...uh...yeah...sure..." Cyborg rubbed his neck. "Y'all go on ahead. I have to have some time alone with my panic attack."

"Tofu hot dogs! Coming right up!" Beast Boy and the others trotted away.

But then...a whimpering voice.

Everyone paused to look:

Starfire knelt forlornly before the shattered remnant of the machine's monitor. It flickered with dying, electric life as she cradled a few shards of plastic and cooed: "Nao I shall never know hao strong I am..."

It was gradual, like an afternoon rain in the summer, but the room filled with a chuckle at first, then a throng of laughters, then an actual roar. Cyborg, Stargirl, and Beast Boy—mainly-but a little bit of Robin and a smirking Raven.

Starfire looked up at them all. She frowned. "What? What is it nao? I do not understand!"

"Come on, Kory..." Cyborg made an effort to turn his back to the glaring damage and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let me buy you a soda."

"Hrnnngh..." She folded her arms in a pout, but hovered along.

Stargirl smiled after the sight, trailing behind the group as the marched away.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**I'm sure you're dying to know about Starfire. She is, after all, the true reason why we all ever met to begin with—unless you believe in fate, and I know you don't. But you do have a thing for aliens and invasions and all that stuff.**

"**Let me be the first to tell you, in writing, that if Starfire was indeed an alien invader—then Earth couldn't possibly have asked for a better despot. She is as adorable as a flower girl at a wedding, and yet as fiercely defensive as the Goddess of War. She will hold you when you cry, and carry you when you're wounded. She would wait by your side while you struggle to find yourself, and all the while thrash your enemies within an inch of their lives.**

"**I know that all of this declaration of character seems a bit much for me to make this early in our relationship—But there's a great earnesty in Starfire that makes her trustworthy. She doesn't hide anything. Or else—if she does hide anything—she's so good at it that none of us can tell. She is completely and utterly open about anything and everything. And though this may often be endearing—it is, of course, not without it's complications. That said, Starfire is quite easily the most interesting person out of the bunch that I have been blessed to know... ...Especially since she's been putting up with me. Because...well...I'll just tell you about it:"**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 7th, 2004)**

"Ohhhh—What kind of pitch is that?" Beast Boy cackled before a laptop, propped up on a table, displaying the streaming broadcast of a baseball game. "I'm telling you, he's not showing any respect!"

"What do you expect?" Cyborg smirked from where he sat next to the green elf on one of the sofas in the Bunker's Common Area. "He's a Red Socks pitcher. It's in the blood, I tell you."

"Hey!" Beast Boy frowned, lifting the John finger at Cyborg. "Just because the Yankees are the only players in the league who tighten their jockstraps like space shuttle booster rockets; it doesn't mean the rest of the league are total slackoffs!"

"You said it, not me!"

"If your skull wasn't rust resistant, I'd dunk it in a deep well by nao."

"Why you gotta defend the Boston _Red Sucks_?"

"I'm not _defending_ them! I'd just rather be caught dead than cheering for the New York Wankers."

"Oh, real original. Did you pick that one up in Liverpool while filming Space Wreck vs Dr. Who?"

"Hey! That was a great crossover!"

"My titanium handsome butt it was!"

"You're more stuck up than the umpire."

"At least _that_ I can agree on. This is the third batter he's let walk in a single inning."

"Uhm..." Courtney looked up from the dining room table where she was busily trudging her way through a Biology workbook. "...don't you have a meeting with Ms. Drew at noon, Victor?"

"What's the matter, Spangle? Sunshine and baseball getting in the way of your studies?"

"It's _only_ a _**midterm**_I'm prepping for." She said, then frowned. "And don't call me Spa-"

"OHHH! What's with _**that**_?"

"Hah hah hah! That's called a _bunt_, ya green tinted rookie!"

"He should get drowned in New York harbor for that!"

"It's all legal!"

"Frickin' pinstriped broadway rejects..."

"Watch it, nao."

"Baseball is evil. Let say we turn the channel to Dr. Phil?"

"Not on your nelly."

"NAO who's from Liverpool?"

"Frickin' bases loaded—Nao that's what I'm TALKING about—Awwww...commercial!"

"Oooh. Clusters! I like that cereal."

"Feh."

"See? They advertise with squirrels—Because Fur sells, dude! Fur sells like hotcakes!"

"FEH."

Courtney tried, tried, tried to tune them out. Her sneaker'd feet fidgeted, ushered by an impulse to stroll briefly back to her room to acquire her mp3 player and headphones.

Something _amber_ drifted warmly through her peripheral vision. She spoke without looking:

"Heya, Star."

"Salutations, friend Courtney."

"Gonna brave another bite out of B.B.'s macaroni and cheese? It didn't make you half as green as when you tried out chicken and dumplings."

"It is not hunger that summons my presence, but rather thirst. I do hope there is more of that exotic quaff that Cyborg acquired from the store of drugs."

"Uhhh...Dr. Pepper? Just to the right of the pantry."

"Much thanks."

Courtney smiled, finishing one bit of her Biology exercise. "Can't believe that in a month and a half the school year will be over, and I'll have the entire summer to be a superhero full time." She looked up. "Hey, Starfire, do they have schools on planet Tama-?" She froze. "... ... ..." She blinked. "... ... ...Uh, Kory?"

"Hmmm?" Starfire unscrewed the bottle and was in the process of raising it to her lips. "Is something the matter?"

"Uhm..." Courtney bit her lip, glanced aside, made an intense effort of looking _aside_. "What...uhm... ...erm... ...Is everything o-okay?"

"Huh?" Starfire blinked. Curious, green eyes. She glanced at the bottle, then smiled with a slight blush. "I am most apologetic. It is very rude of me to drink directly from the bottle, is it not?" She placed the jar back onto the counter and reached into a cupboard for a jar. "On my planet, everything was communal—Including eating utensils. But, then again, Tamaranian immune systems have many more ways of combating bacteria and diseases than the Homo sapien defensive structure-"

"It's not that. I... ...erm..." Courtney shuffled her chair out, stood up, walked _backwards_ towards the alien girl, and stood side by side with her. As Starfire poured a glass of Dr. Pepper, Courtney leaned her head to the side and murmured in a low voice: "Why aren't you _wearing_ _any_ _**clothes**_?"

"Hrmm?" Starfire sipped long and hard, exhaled, then smiled pleasantly. "Because all of my clothes are in my quarters."

"... ... ..." Courtney blinked. She scratched the side of her neck. "Erm...I... ...I-I don't get it. Are you _really warm_ or something?"

"Hardly. I do not suffer from temperature variance quite as much as your people do." She sipped again, glanced off into the far corner of the room, and murmured: "Why, I do remember this one time when I had to escape a Gordanian slave ship as I rounded the event horizon of a fluctuating quasar-"

"Kory—I...erm... ...wh-what I mean is... .. .. .uhm..." Courtney glanced worriedly towards the back of the two boys' heads. "Maybe... ...M-Maybe you should _consider_ putting some _clothes __**on**_... ...don'tcha think?"

"Why?" Starfire blinked, suddenly concerned. "Do we have a pressing engagement?"

"No—Er, well... ... ...I-I mean we could... but..." Courtney kept her eyes glued to the ceiling. "I-I mean, we could, I suppose..."

"Then I am still confused, Courtney..." Starfire leaned in—making Courtney twitch away from her a bit. "Why are you so quiet and tense? And for what reason is my lack of attire an issue?"

"It's... ...well... ... ...it's somewhat **indecent**, _Kory_..."

"What is not decent about being one of X'hal's creation?" Starfire remarked, a slight glow to her emerald irises. "There is beauty in the design She weaves—To cover it up is merely an infrequent necessity. Otherwise-"

"Tamaranians just walk around _naked_?"

"Does not everyone?" Starfire uttered incredulously. She motioned her head towards the boys and their baseball game. "With each passing day, I was growing more and more concerned about the perpetually garbed habits of you and my other companions. But I have held my tongue, for I briefly assumed that there was a Terran Week of Mourning in effect-"

"N-No, Starfire..." Courtney sighed and covered her face, shoulders shuddering in some sparsely suppressed conflict of humor and disbelief. "We are not mourning. We are simply-"

"-suppressing yourselves, surely!" Starfire took another mighty sip, back arching to get the last of the soda out of the cup.

Courtney all but spun from her. "Okay, so it's an _Earth thing!_ But **still**, Starfire."

Starfire emptied the cup, wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and then muttered: "I have kept my prayers to myself, I have respected everyone's _space_ and _privacy_, I have politely refrained from loudly reciting the poems of gratitude and well-being, I have struggled to ingest your foods and abide by your politics—And nao I hear directly from your mouth that there is a problem with my body?"

"No—NO! There's no problem with your body, Kory-"

"Are you certain?"

"I...Erm..." Courtney's blue eyes darted briefly towards her, then just-as-quickly darted away. "Yeah. I-I'm pretty darn certain there's **nothing** wrong with your body-"

"Hao can anyone be a proper judge without making a proper observation?"

"Because—_Syriously, Kory?_ I mean, it's none of my **business**-"

"Physicality is most certainly everyone's business! I, for one, find absolutely nothing wrong with your body-"

"I..." Courtney blinked suddenly at Starfire's face. "Wait. Uhm. Hao would you know?"

_'What are you girls badgering each other about over there?"_

"Oh—N-Nothing!" Courtney bounded over to the back of the couch, leaned over, and pointed at the laptop's screen. "H-Hey! Look! Is that Lebron James? Way to pitch, sl-slugger!"

"Uhh..." Beast Boy made a face. "Courtney? Lebron James plays **basketball**."

Courtney sighed. _"Whatever—I only know lacrosse."_

An amber form drifted up to the couch. "What is this I hear about The Slugging?"

"Snkkt-" Courtney hissed through her braces, grasped a yelping Starfire by the shoulders, and hurriedly pushed her down the hall and away from the curiously blinking heads of the other two.

"_Friend Courtney!"_ Starfire hissed and wrangled from her grasp the moment they were by their quarters. _"What is the meaning of this great urgency?"_ She frowned and folded her arms in a strategic position. "I may not know much of Terran etiquette, but unwanted physical contact is one of the worst transgressions, is it not?.!"

"I'm so sorry, Kory—It's just that I wanna protect you from being horribly embarrassed-"

"And you do not see me as capable of protecting myself?"

"Kory..." Courtney sighed. "I may not have seen all the lengths and widths of the universe as you have, but if there's one thing I believe in—Nobody is capable of being protected from _everything_. No matter hao hard anyone tries."

"Then..." Starfire blinked. "What is the point of being superheroes?"

"Look—I didn't drag you aside because I wanted to discuss philosophy. It's as simple as this: You can trounce around naked if you like. But if you do, you're in for a lot of trouble. Sure, some people may just shrug it off, but a whole bunch of others will think things about you—_Not nice things_, things that I know isn't true of you."

"And that is then to be my fault?" Starfire frowned. "Because others cannot control what they think of me—I am to erect a boundary about my own dignity?"

"Of course it's not your fault, Kory..." Courtney gave her a sad look, followed by a bitter sweet smile. "You're my friend. And I don't want you to be hurt. And sometimes—_most of the times—_that means having to fit in with your surroundings. It's not always fun, but at least you'll get an idea as to _what makes earth people tick—_and then, maybe in time, you'll see why I'm trying to do you a favor."

"Courtney..."

"Just give it faith. Please..." Courtney said. Hands held together in a plee. "Trust me."

"... ... ..." Very well. Starfire nodded proudly. "For you—I shall wear clothes at unnecessary times."

"Whew..." Courtney exhaled. "I'm glad we could work this out—_EEP!"_ She went bug-eyed.

Starfire was hugging her, close, strong arms squeezing the blonde's back. "And it is most wonderful to know that my new friends care for me sooooo..." She smilingly cooed.

"Yeah... ...Uhm..." Courtney twitched in her hug and limply patted one hand on her bare shoulder. "...back at ya. Nao, if you wouldn't mind-"

_Schwisssh!_

Courtney froze.

Starfire craned her head to see.

Raven walked out of her room. She turned. She saw Courtney and a naked alien girl and froze. "... ... ... ..."

"... .. ... ...Is there something the matter, Raven?" Starfire asked.

"... .. ...why would there be?" Raven marched on.

Courtney nervously chattered: "Raven—It's not what you think-"

"You don't **know** what I think." And the sorceress was gone.

The blonde groaned, running a hand over her face.

Starfire blinked after the blue-haired femme. "You do not suppose that everyone on this planet is like Raven?"

"No, Kory." Courtney muttered. "Not in the least."

"Affirmative. I believe that you were more correct about your assessment of my nudity than I had previously imagined." Starfire smiled pleasantly and marched off towards her room. "Much appreciations, friend Courtney! I shall proceed to adorn my leggings-"

"The top too!" Courtney cackled.

"_Awww—Surely you jest!"_

"I mean it!"

"Hey Courtney!" Beast Boy wandered by, blinking. "The top of what?"

"The hill I'm jumping off..." She trudged back to her homework, leaving a bewildered elf to scratch his head.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 8th, 2004)**

_**SHATTER!.!.!**_

The window to a grocery store exploded. Three pedestrians and a woman with a shopping cart shrieked and ran away. Two masked thugs trucking canvass bags hobbled out through the broken window frame. One dropped his shotgun and the other one shoved him towards the ground to pick it up before rushing out towards the nearest road.

"What in the Hell...What in the Hell...What in the Hell..." The first masked felon panted.

"Shut up, man!" The second grunted. "Just run!"

"A freakin' green dinosaur! And what the Hell's up with that bitch with the dark shadow shit?"

"I said, **just ru**n!"

"Man, I'm telling you, it's the frickin' Justice League! They're here in our Town, finally! We're screwed, man! Screwed!"

Ch-Chtung! The second aimed his shotgun at his wailing partner. "If you're gonna do nothing but whine and moan, then toss me your share of the spoils already!"

"Nuts to that! I might be scared, but I ain't stupid-!"

"_Try '**dead'**."_

The two gasped and looked up.

Stargirl levitated down to the pavement, aiming a bright golden cosmic rod at the two men in the corner of the grocery store's parking lot.

"The **only** thing you two will be sharing is a **jail cell**." She narrowed her eyes under her mask. "**Cooperate**, and it won't be a **coffin**."

"... ... ... ..." The men stared at her, saying nothing, shifting about anxiously. Fingers twitched around their triggers.

Stargirl hissed: "I **said**-"

The sound of an engine.

All three looked.

A schoolbus was riding up the nearest road adjacent to the parking lot. The rider—like every other vehicle on the street—was totally unaware of the chaos unfolding just half a block away-

A thug saw it—saw that Stargirl saw it—and reached into his pocket, pulling loose three grenades.

Stargirl gasped. _Th-Thwish—_She dove with the rod. "Don't-"

"Bite me!" The man grunted and tossed all three grenades—_live_—into the street before the schoolbus. He tugged on his buddy, and the two went running in the opposite direction.

Stargirl winced. "Okaiiii—Last time I try to do the _Robin voice_." _**SWOOOSH!**_ She zoomed towards the impact zone.

_Cl-Cl-Clank!_ All three grenades rolled to a stop in the middle of the street. The school bus driver saw them at the last second and slammed the breaks. Children screamed-

"Hold on!" Stargirl shrieked, hovered directly over the three explosives, and hit a panel on the stalk of the Cosmic Rod. A thin golden beam streamed down, then cascaded over in a yellow dome that covered all three grenades, encasing them against the asphalt. She tightened her muscles and squinted her eyes. "Let's just hope _I can_-"

_**P-P-POW!**_ The explosion mushroomed outward from the three incendiary grenades, filling the yellow dome to the brim with fire and plasma. The golden energy flickered and flashed. The cosmic rod shook from the buckling effort of maintaining the force. Courtney's gloved hands tightened on the staff, her elbows wobbling.

"Nnngh...that's wh-what I get for eating only tofu for a week..." She hissed, sweating hard under the muscle stress. _"Gosh darn you, Garfield..."_

_**Thwooosh!**_ Starfire touched down, breathless. "I came as soon as I heard Raven's call! Cyborg and Robin are not far behind!"

"You are an angel, Kory..." Stargirl breathed with relief as the fire died out. The safe occupants of the bus and other vehicles looked on from the distance at which they had braked. The Star Spangled Kid relaxed her grip on the rod, and the golden dome died out—revealing a smoldering crater in the asphalt. "Whew...that was one hot potato." The blonde shuddered. "Make that **three**."

"Where are the perpetrators of this debacle?" Koriand'r asked.

Stargirl motioned over her shoulder. "They ran north. Back across the parking lot. They're armed to the-" She glanced over, blinked, then shuddered: _"Oh heavens, no."_

Starfire looked—She gasped.

The two thugs were pulling over a minivan. They saw that the heroes had caught sight of them—So the first of the gunmen yanked a door open and reached into the passenger side. He pulled out a shrieking eight-year-old girl, crying for her mother. A woman pounced at the man, but he knocked her back into the driver's seat with a vicious right hook and stood before the minivan, aiming a gun at the girl's head and barking the two teenagers' way. "Stay the Hell away—Or the girl gets her ears pierced with lead!"

"W-We gotta wait for the others..." Stargirl stammered, lips quivering. "Th-This is b-bad. We've got a hostage situation and-"

"They would harm an innocent family!" Starfire gasped, she glanced at the fresh crater in the street—and its proximity to the school bus. She gasped again. "And children!" Her fists clenched. Her eyes glowed a demonic bright green. Her teeth gnashed so hard, sparks flew.

Stargirl sweatdropped. "Uhm...Kory? Don't-"

"**X'HAL!"** _**FWOOOOSH!**_ The air burned with the heat of Starfire's takeoff. Stargirl shrieked to see that the ends of her blonde hair had started smoking—and she slapped the ashes away.

Meanwhile...across the parking lot.

The girl struggled against the gunman, sobbing, as his partner pulled the unconscious mother from the vehicle.

"What in the-?" The man clutching the girl squinted under his mask. "Those _bitches!_ They've fired some sort of green laser at us!"

"Uhhh...Dude?" The other blinked. "I don't think that's a _laser beam_-"

_**SWOOOOOOOOOSH-THUD!**_ An emerald mountain of energy sailed so hard into the first gunman that when he let go of the girl—she practically hovered in midair for half a second before collapsing to the ground with a cry. Half-a-second later, the minivan behind them split in two like a giant Twinkie. Two more blinks, and a hot asphalt-parting wave of green fire had surged across the street, impacting with an exploding newstand—at the center of which was a gasping man, his coat and jacket on fire in various places, and his throat being squeezed mercilessly in the hands of an angry, _angry, **angry**_ Tamaranian.

"Cretin!...Defiler!... ... ...Most unholy vagabond!" Starfire snarled, smoldering flakes of newspaper and magazines settling all around her like ash from a horendous volcano. "You would snuff out nubile lives with your corrupt ambition before they had a chance to learn for themselves the great Moral Compass that you so selfishly cast aside?" She leaned over and held high a burning hand of starbolt fusion. "If it would eke forth _any_ form of universal value, I should gut you right nao like the animal that you are and sell your worthless organs to the nearest galactic black market!"

"Oh jesus! Oh jesus! Oh jesus!" A huge wet spot formed in the man's jeans. "I-I wasn't gonna shoot her! H-Honest! I swear to God!"

She snarled into his face. "Perhaps it is unto me that you should most presently be swearing!"

"I-I swear to the psycho-Tang-colored-sky-bitch! Don't kill meeeee!"

"Holy s-shit..." His partner clamored up to his feet beside the wrecked minivan and hugging mother-and-child. "That girl's going to cream him!"

"_At least she's wearing clothes."_

He spun. "H-Huh?"

_**CLANG!**_ The cosmic rod flew across his jaw. He fell to the sidewalk, spitting up a tooth or two.

Stargirl touched down, wincing. "Whew! I've got a good dentist to refer you to..." She glanced up through the fresh canyon in the two minivan pieces and winced at the sight of Starfire's 'confrontation'. "Hooo boyo...This won't go well."

The sound of a screeching bunch of tires. Stargirl glanced aside to see Cyborg hopping out of a wheel-smoking black SUV, emergency lights strobing from beneath the windshield. He ran up to the scene, breathless.

"When are you gonna _wait_ for everyone else for once?" Cyborg cackled.

"When are you gonna get sweeter wheels?"

"Don't bruise a man's ego in the afternoon." Cyborg stopped next to Stargirl. "What happened to the family's van?"

Stargirl pointed. "What's about to happen to that would-be-child-murderer, if Starfire has her way."

"Whoah dayum!" Cyborg rushed through the wreckage. "Victor to the rescue!"

"Of who?" Stargirl smirked.

"Help me! Help me!" The man flailed, stuck within the vice of Starfire's burning grasp. "She's gonna cook me alive!"

"Best barbecue I've heard of in weeks. But, in all good sanity...Ahem." Cyborg came up and placed a cautious hand on the Tamaranian's shoulder. "Okay, Kory. It's over."

"It is most exceedingly _not_ over!" The girl continued sneering heatedly into the man's twitching face. "Even if you are to incarcerate this insect in your dirtiest, grimiest, unhealthiest place of metallically caged detainment, it will not purge him of his insensitive demonlust! He will only seek to exploit the innocent in the future—When the likes of us may not be around to stop him!"

"And hao are you gonna solve that? By burning him a new trachea?" Cyborg squawked. "Believe me, Kory, he's gonna have enough fun as it is in prison with _two holes_. You've done your part, nao let the law have its way with him!"

"HAH! Terran _**law**_..." The girl spat. "Why, on my planet-"

"And we sure as Hell ain't _on_ your planet! Are we?" Cyborg frowned at her. "If you're not going to let him go because of personal conviction, I don't care! You're going to let him go because **I'm telling you to**! For that is what we agreed to when we formed this little club of ours—Isn't it?"

".. ... .. ...**Nnnngh!**" Starfire shoved the gunman hard against a streetlamp—_**CLANK—**_and it dented savagely from his impact.

"Unnngh..." The man curled over, groaning.

"**There**!" Starfire seethed, fuming. "Have I not let go of him like you asked me to?"

"Close enough. Next time aim for the pillow factory—But until then..." He nudged her in the shoulder with a nervous smirk. "Nice work."

"But it is **not** work, is it!" Starfire slapped his metal hand away, paced down the street, feet stomping miniature craters in the sidewalk under the weight of her fury. "It is an exercise in utter redundancy to spend so much effort in intimidating the wicked, only to allow them a gentle exit into the hands of bureaucratic impotence!"

"Don't be so down on our justice system, Starfire." Stargirl sauntered over, leaning on her rod. "It's a good process—It just takes time-"

"Nnngh—_ENOUGH_ of your precious 'time'!" Starfire stomped her foot and sneered into the blonde's face. "It is still because of **you** that I am not presently naked!"

Cyborg looked up from handcuffing the battered crook. "Say what?"

"Erhm..." Stargirl sweatdropped.

"I cannot tarry here any longer!" Starfire growled, all but pulling at her hair as she wandered the progressively cluttered street of befuddled, onlookers. "I am so full of misguided anger and fury and I cannot for the life of me conceive of a manner in which I can safely exert such energy because this entire world is like a giant sphere of Vegan paper models to my bare fists! Nnnnghhh-" She spun and faced a tan-skinned teenager propped on a motorcycle. "You! You are most exceedingly handsome and attractive! What is your name?"

The young man stammered. "N-No...No entiendo su palabras-"

"Good enough!" She yanked him by the collar. "Mmmmmmmm-" She kissed him long and hard on the lips and shoved him neatly off his motorcycle. "Bueno. Voy a tomar una ducha caliente para las tres horas proximas!" _**SWOOOOOSH!**_ She soared skyward, making a burning green beeline home, towards the Bunker.

"Madre de Dios..." The boy dizzily murmured.

A naked silence...descending...

"... ... ..." Cyborg looked back at Stargirl. "... ... ..." He looked at the wreckage. "... ... ...Could be worse."

"Oh?" Stargirl cocked her head to the side.

"Yeah. She could have torn the motorcyclist in half and kissed the mivivan."

"Eheheheh."

"_Snkkkt—Cyborg. This is Raven. Beast Boy and I stopped the robbers inside. But there were two runners-"_

"Ten-Four. They met Starfire."

"_Wonderful. Should I call an ambulance?"_

"Sure, and while you're at it—order a pizza and a Spanish Dictionary. This is gonna be a long afternoon."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**Ahhh Cyborg.. ... ... ... Where to begin? Where to begin... ... ...?**

"**I couldn't have asked for a better leader. Syriously, I couldn't have. He's caring, supportive, funny, passionate, enthusiastic, and—most of all—human, though I'm sure he only gives himself half credit. I knew I would like Cyborg the first moment I met him—here in the heated streets of Jump City—battling reptilian monsters from god knows where. He spent the whole night denying that everything he was doing was indicative of a hero. I think, a long time ago, Victor Stone saw it in his head that a hero has to be something of freakish eccentricity. Like—I think he considers himself a monster first, a hero second—And that it's a rule for everyone and everything in the vigilante industry.**

"**But when I talk with him, when I have those rare, quiet moments with the leader who's summoned us all to protect this City—I don't see a monster, I don't see a robot, and I most certainly don't see a freak that exists only because a father he may or may not have agreed with slapped him together with spare parts.**

"**Victor is the big brother I always wished I could have had. He simply is that. He knows hao to make me laugh—and he knows when to laugh at my jokes—when I actually say something funny, not just to tease me or patronize me. He genuinely wants to be friendly, to enjoy life to the fullest, and it's infectious. Someone like him, who's gone through so much pain and agony—who's had so much stripped of his flesh and bone to rob him of all human definition—he is ironically the most plausibly _human_ person amongst us.**

"**He is—more than anyone, more than _me—_the most normal person in the whole group."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 9th, 2004)**

Courtney Whitmore strolled down the sidewalk from the Jump City Central Library. She was out of costume—living in the moment, clad in jeans and a sweatjacket. The trip took the better half of a day—a day that she 'had off', which was precisely why she set out to spend the most of it walking across town, instead of flying, to check out the book she needed to make the school report on. A backpack was strung over her shoulder as she hummed a nonchalant tune into the warm spring air. The closer she got to Phaser Labs—and the high way overpass above it—the great urban noise of the shadowy block drowned out any peep she made. But the cacophony wasn't enough to drown out the clamor of two groaning voices that she heard as she turned the corner just beyond the gates to Phaser Labs. She craned her neck and half-snuck towards the source, eyeing what eventually turned out to be Cyborg and another man...

A thin, middle-aged, haggardly shaven man. He was dressed in a haphazardly buttoned white shirt beneath a dark brown jacket over browner slacks. Courtney's trained eye was able to catch the briefest hint of a gunstrap between the jacket and the shirt as the man gestured wildly towards Downtown, cackling aloud:

"I'm doing all I can to keep that menstrual nutcase off your _**back**_, Vic! So don't rope me into your melodrama with her when I'm the closest thing you've got to a _friend_ in the whole Department!"

"And what about Cid? You work with _her _too, don't you?" Victor throated. "Can't you at least convince her to help Kneehouse cool her jets?"

"What, am **I** not good enough?" The man gestured towards himself, briefly coughing, wheezing, then growling: "My lungs might be only half as good as they used to be-But I can raise the roof higher than Cid would ever care to! Besides, the day she challenges Kneehouse is the day she bothers to buy a bra! The Detective knows better than to cross the she-wolf's perimeter! And so do I, goddamit!"

"Three months ago, old man, you were practically _begging_ for me to make a difference in this City! And nao you're just sitting on the sidelines, pissing into the wind! Pardon my language—But I figure it's the only accent that can get your attention!"

"First off-" The man counted off his dirty fingernails. "I don't recall _begging_ you to do anything, ya friggin' bald toaster oven, you! I was kicking you in the metal ass cuz of your dear old dad! May he rest in-"

"Still, you were in this with me from the start! Kneehouse should be thanking her lucky stars she had you to act as the bridge between us and the City when the aliens were snooping about in every alleyway!"

"Kneehouse has no reason to thank me. I'm the constant hornet's nest in her bra—reminding her with every prick of the day that she's run out of mother's milk _decades_ ago!" The man pointed square into Cyborg's chest and frowned. "You don't work for the flippin' Commissioner 'Cinderblock', Vic. You don't know hao the gears in her head work-"

"And you do?"

"HELL NO!" He pounded Cyborg's chest with a fist. "But that's not the point-" _Clank!_

**Whurrr—**Cyborg's ID Card slid out.

The man stumbled back. "What-Wh-What the Hell did I do? What did I p-push-"

"Nah, don't worry, dawg." Cyborg nonchalantly pushed the card back into his sternum. "It does that."

"Perfect. Just perfect." The man shrugged his shoulders. "Our city's closest thing to Batman, and he's a regular slot machine with the Y2K bug."

"You don't give me enough credit—Or my team! None of you do! We've got stuff to do, and we can't get it done without your help!"

"And just what are we gonna **help**, Victor? Huh? You've got an alien redhead shoving people through automobiles! You've got a camera grabbing green monkey with canceled television shows on his resume! And don't get me started on that Bat-kid and his interrogation tactics!"

"I never said that fixing this City would be easy-"

"And nobody said it was your **job**!" The man waved a hand. "Nngggh—You can eat up the media all you want, Vic. But leave _cleaning the City_ to us in the department. Just face it, all you kid commandos was good for was ridding the place of crocodiles on jetpacks!"

"Man, don't you go blaming the UFO thang on us too-"

"Hell no! I ain't _that cheap!_" The man grumbled, lighting a cigarette as he paced towards the street. "Kneehouse may soil her pants over that shit—But people with good sense knew what happened. You saved the City, Vic. And if it took smashing a giant galactic turd into the Bay, then so be it. I frickin' hate seagulls anyway."

"Then convince her to use some good sense too, man!" Victor cackled after him. "We're starving here without her support! Pull your strings!"

"Man, I haven't had any strings to pull since they demoted me. I'm lucky I can still push street garbage around without being castrated every night. Goddam bleeding heart-sucking vampires of the City Board-" He lit his cigarette, flicked the match away, and turned around to almost run into Courtney. A puff, he raised his cigarette in two pointing fingers at her. "Hey, blondie, get a chaperone. These streets are nasty at sundown, citizen."

Courtney blinked towards the detective, head turning to follow him as he marched off. "Uhm..." She pointed at herself. "Y-You do know that I'm Stargirl, r-right?"

"_Yeah, and I'm Eric Bischoff. Frickin' punkass valley girls. I swear to Senator Obama..."_

Stargirl frowned, arms folded. "You know...for a detective...he really doesn't get a clue."

"Girl, you're telling me." Cyborg sauntered up, rubbing the side of his head. "And who's Senator Obama?"

"I dunno. All I know is that I've got homework to do."

"Can it wait till tomorrow morning?"

She blinked up at him. "Sure it could. What's up?"

"We've got a stake out tonight." Cyborg patted her shoulder, then frowned in the direction of the retreating police officer. "Just the six of us. **Alone**."

"If you can't convince Decker to help us—Then we're really up against the wall, aren't we?"

Cyborg sighed. "Hell—We've got the _resources_. But it doesn't hurt to feel _loved_ once in a while... Yanno?"

"... ... ... ... ..." Stargirl digged her shoe into the ground. "... ... ..." She bit her lip. Then smiled...And jumped into Cyborg with a hug.

"... ... ...!" Victor blinked. He confusedly hugged her back. "Wh-What's that for?"

"For you." She smiled against his chest, then winked up at him. "Someone who has so much faith in the City he loves should receive some faith in return."

"... ... ..." Victor smirked. "Hao did Green Lantern ever give you up?"

"You want to know a secret?"

"Shoot."

"I have no flippin' clue."

"Hah hah hah hah..." The half-android laughed, then patted her shoulder. "Run along. Get into uniform."

She scampered off. "At least _some_ of us have to."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Later...

That very night... ... ...

Cyborg squatted on a shadowed fire escape inside a niche between two tall buildings in Downtown Jump City. Stargirl stood next to him, gripping the Cosmic Rod. Together, the two young heroes stared out onto an intersection—their eyes focused on a gas station, brightly lit under the haze of dark urbanscape.

Every two minutes or so, a car would drive by the intersection—briefly puncturing the gentle drone of the surrounding air.

"Quiet night..." Stargirl murmured, the starlight glistening off her blue eyemask. "Are the others still in position?"

Cyborg looked at her. He looked towards the rooftops across the way. He raised his metal wrist, tapped a button, and glowed three of his knuckles in a brief, strobing sensation.

Three seconds passed...

A birdarang shaped light flickered back, the same exact strobe.

"Yeah. They're still as patient and bored as we are." Victor muttured under his breath.

Stargirl hunched over beside him. "Just why would the Dead Men make a strike way out here? Aren't they positioned in the North District?"

"They may live there—but places like Downtown and Central District are their hunting grounds." Victor remarked. He shrugged. "Besides, I've yet to have one of Robin's tips let us down."

Stargirl smiled with a sudden, warm breath. "Yeah, Robin..." She blinked at Cyborg. "Hao many ribs do you suppose he cracked to get the truth out this time?"

"I told him to take it easy for a few days, while I try to get on Kneehouse's sweet side." He nudged her in the knee. "So don't get your hopes up about seeing Robin going rambo on somebody tonight."

"Heeehee, okai." She said. She blinked. She squinted at him. "Wait, wh-what's that supposed to mean?"

Cyborg chuckled, then smirked. "Nothing."

She folded her arms. A minute passed. She sighed. "You really do rely a lot on the information Robin gets."

"What can I say?" Cyborg shrugged. "He's my ace in the hole."

"Does that make me the Queen of Hearts?" Stargirl smiled. "I always wanted to dress up as the Queen of Hearts."

"Closet Royal Flush Gang fan, eh?"

"Who isn't?" Stargirl stretched, then squatted down beside Cyborg with a sigh. "If only they used their smexxy powers to stop crime and not perpetuate it."

"You wanna bet that if Raven was a member of the Royal Flush Gang, she'd be-"

"-the Ace of Spades. Yeah."

"Heheheh." Cyborg raised a hand. "High five, girl."

She slapped her glove against his palm. Then stared out at the distant gas station as her smile gradually faded. "It stinks to know that the place is gonna be robbed—But just not knowing _**when**_."

"Woulda been nice to have Kneehouse plant an operative inside to keep better tabs of the place. This way is far more dangerous," Victor frowned.

"Well—What if, like, we weren't here at all?"

"And let the Dead Men get away with stuff that isn't theirs? I know that convenience store robberies happen everyday—But that doesn't excuse our sitting back and doing nothing-"

"I mean _syriously_..." Stargirl gestured. "What if just being here only makes the situation worse? There's _bound_ to be a hostage taken in the gas station if they so much as _see_ us!"

"There could be a _hole_ in that hostage's head if we're not staking the scene here to stop them as soon as they show up."

"Still, they're gonna catch on at some point or another." Stargirl said. When Cyborg looked at her, she glanced back and clarified: "The criminals of Jump City—that is—All of them. When it becomes obvious to them that we're here to stay, and that we mean business—Then won't they up the ante? Won't they start using more explosives than guns? I mean—a couple of days ago—I watched a madman fire a bazooka at me and Robin. I'm not sure hao well I can sleep at night if that's the sort of thing I'll expect _every evening_."

"The fact is—We don't know what to expect, Stargirl. But what's key is that we're not about to let that _scare_ us." His red eye glinted in the starlight. "Are we?"

She gulped. "It's... ...It's a l-little healthy to be scared... ... ...Don't you think so, Vic?"

"Hmmm... ... ...Fear..." Cyborg sighed out his nostrils and stared back out at the street. "I like to leave that sort of stuff to Robin and Raven. I'm not so good at fear." He kicked at the metal bars of the fire escape and shifted in his squatting position. "Nao _anger_... ...heh... ... ...I've done a few rounds with that in my day."

"... ... ... ..." Stargirl looked at him. She lifted a lock of blonde hair and tucked it over her ear. She leaned forward. "What were you gonna be, Victor...?"

"... ... ...Hrm?" He grunted without looking.

"Before... ...Before _your accident._" She asked. "Before you became Cyborg, before you found out you were Jump City's key to salvation... ...What did you have planned in your life?"

"I dunno..." He muttered bluntly with a heaving shrug of his titanium shoulders. "What were _you_ going to be before... ..." He glanced half-heartedly over his frame. "... ...er...before you picked up a fancy space-belt and decided to swing golden lacrosse sticks at bad guys?"

She giggled. "Hee-hee-hee—Ohhhh..." She leaned her chin on her knee and smiled towards the darklit streets. "I've always had a love for history. I was thinking of majoring in sociology and becoming a teacher."

"A teacher?"

"Yeah... ..."

"With the money teachers make—I'm surprised you could afford to get out of braces by age thirty."

"Oh, that's _so encouraging._"

"Just sayin'..." Cyborg shrugged. "My mother was briefly a teacher when I was in fourth grade."

"R-Really?" Courtney blinked. "With her husband running a multi-billion dollar corporation?"

"That she was _chairperson_ of for a while, mind you."

"No offense intended."

"None taken." Cyborg sighed. "She did the whole teacher thang as a labor of love. I mean—what else could it have been?" He smiled bitterly. "She knew very well we had janitors at Stonetech who were paid more."

"What kept her going?"

"She believed in what she did. A lot of bright kids came out of her Chemistry class—At least one of them is studying medicine with Doc Hunnicutt today."

"That sounds really, really awesome."

"So... ...Why did you stop pursuing being a history teacher?" He asked her.

"Well..." Her fingers tapped the metal surface of the cosmic rod. "I guess I found something I believe in _more_."

"... ... ...Well..." Cyborg exhaled and shrugged towards the dark shadows of the alleyway. "Teachers don't get to fly around much."

"Not in Nebraska, they don't."

"Heh heh heh..."

Stargirl squinted her eyes mischeviously at him. "So...Nao it's your turn."

"Hmmm?"

"You tried to shirk off my question by reflecting it back towards me. Nao I gotta know..." She smiled bracedly. "What were you gonna be, Vic?"

"... ... ...Nnngh..." He rubbed the human half of his head, reddening a bit. "The... ...The same thing that I was just a few months before the accident..."

Stargirl blinked. "... ...And that was?"

He let it out in a terse breath. "A wrestler."

"A wrestler?.?.?"

"Yup."

"Like—A professional wrestler?.?.?"

"Yup yup." He gluttered: "A mat-stomping, turnbuckle leaping, elbow dropping, chair-hitting professional redneck entertainer. A _wrestler_."

"Like Hulk Hogan?"

"**Hell No**! I—Snkkt-" He frowned incredulously at her. "Girl, whatcha on about?"

"Don't look at me. I have no clue."

"Damn straight you don't!" He grumbled, rolled his eyes, then sighed with a tyred expression. "If you must know, I patterned myself after Ahmed Johnson."

Stargirl stared at him. "... ...Who?"

"Just as I thought..." Cyborg groaned to the street. "_**Damn** the Clique..."_

"So, you mean to tell me, that before you were turned into half-metal, you were full-spandex?" She blinked. "Just not _our kind_ of spandex?"

"Barely got past the training school." He said. "I rolled into Central Jump City Ropes—An old-as-shiet warehouse where punks my age learned to get pummeled for a living. This big hairy italian dude called Murdering Mercutio wore a nametag that said 'coach', proceeded to German Suplex me a billion times, and taught me hao to kill somebody without _killing_ somebody. Three months and three fractured limbs later—I was ready for my first night. I jobbed to half a dozen established dudes in the local circuits before an agent got me in contact with a Northeast establishment, and then I was off to Metropolis to win my first match against a veteran cruiser weight—his name was Jonny Too Kool. My name? Heh...I was gonna run with Stony Victorious."

"Heeheehee..." Stargirl smiled. "Victor, I'm proud of you."

"Yepppp..." Cyborg rubbed his hands together and stared at the sidewalk five stories below the fire escape. "...and then my dad marched in with two police offers, grabbed me by the arm, and hoisted me out of the arena before I could be handed the Northeast Cruiserweight Belt."

"Oh..." Stargirl's lips pursed. A beat. "Ouch."

"'Ouch' is right. Everyone thought it was part of the show—A new father-and-son-drama angle. But, _hell_, it never got concluded. Some B.S. was invented about hao the entire outcome of the match was a botch on behalf of the referee—and Jonny Too Kool got his belt back. That's show biz."

"Yeah—But...uhm..." Stargirl raised an eyebrow. "What about you and your dad?"

"What's to know?" Cyborg glanced boredly back at her. "He took me into a limousine waiting outside the arena. He gave me an earful about doing all of it just to spite him. He said I had worried my mother to death and brought shame to the Stone family name."

"I'm sure he was just—yanno-ticked off-"

"He was **right**_." _ Cyborg said. "I did it all to piss him off. And I did it on purpose."

"But... ...But why?"

"You didn't know me then. You didn't know my father then either. But I knew my father—or at least I was pretty dayum sure I did." Cyborg said. A long breath. He murmured on, eyeing the half-red stars: "In every area of my life, he had his fingers stuck. In school, I was forced to take all the higher mathematic classes. After school, I was in all of the brainy extra-curricular science clubs."

"Doc Hunnicutt told me a little bit about that." Stargirl nodded, her head leaning to the side as she gazed at him. "Both him and _Ray_ say that you were the top of your class—An absolute genius! Heck, you still are-"

"That ain't the point, Spang—snkkt—_Stargirl._" Cyborg gestured and glanced at her. "The fact was—My dad was intent on _controlling_ me! Everyday, he wanted to make me into something that was more like him and not like me! Hell, I had no chance of discovering who or what I was! I was so busy being worked—_no_—**enslaved** to manifest _his_ dreams, and not my own! You have any idea what that feels like?"

She gulped, but bravely smiled. "N-Not really. I was never...n-never really close to _my_ dad."

"... ... ..." Cyborg shifted his feet against the fire escape. "Yeah, well..." He muttered. "...that's at least one thing we have in common. Nevertheless..." He stared out at the distant gas station once more. "I knew what he was up to. I knew all the ways he was going about doing it-" He pointed briefly at his metal skull. "Genius intellect, remember?"

"Sure thing."

"So—All I ever wanted to do was defy him. And to do it while having fun, too. First it was football—but that was only a brief stint. The sport never made much sense to me. Then I thought about car racing—But knew I couldn't get away with it on my allowance. So—the square'd circle it was. I guess, in getting myself into a sport that would _hurt_ _me _so much—I figured it would hurt him."

"And your mother?"

"I would just blame any of her suffering on _him_ all the same." He looked painfully at the blonde. "Ain't that terrible? Can you believe that I could _think_ that way?"

"At least you're willing to admit it nao." She smiled gently at him. "The way I figure it—People are teenagers twice in their life. There's the first half where they're total jerks, then the second half when they start to become adults."

"Even you, Miss Braces and Sunshine?"

She smiled. "You didn't know me before I became the Star Spangled Kid. I treated my mother like a bicycle stand. I shudder to even think about it..."

"... ... ..." Cyborg twiddled his metal thumbs, echoing tiny scraping noises into the dead of city night. "And then the Accident... ...And I become **this**." He stretched those same limbs before him, reflecting a human eye and a red eye in opposite metal wrists. "...and I figured my dad had won out. That in spite of all my efforts, he had the final say, and I couldn't win my true self back anymore—Even though I never discovered it." He stared up into the stars, arms hanging limply. "Funny thing about life. If you live long enough to limp past all the tragedy of et, you realize that nobody wins."

"That's grim." She frowned. "Even for **you**."

He looked back at her with a tyred smile. "Only by making it out of the shadow of death do you learn to laugh at it."

"Well, I suppose that's true." She pushed a strand of blonde hair back again. "I'm guessing you gave up on the whole wrestling thing...huh?"

"HEH..." He chuckled loud, then rubbed his human half of a head. "You can sure say that again. It's kinda hard to blade-job when your skull's made of metal."

"To do _what_ nao?"

"Doesn't matter. Still, though..." He briefly turned his arm into a sonic cannon—_clack-clack-clackka-_then back again—_**Clack!**_ "Fighting crime, tossing criminals around, butting heads with gang members... ... ...There are still times when I wish there was a mat beneath me and a crowd around me, filling in the gaps between the noise."

"Maybe there's hope for the future?" Stargirl shrugged with a hopeful smile. "I'm sure there are plenty of superheroes out there who—on their off time—would be willing to...I dunno...put on a show?"

"HAH!" Cyborg grinned wide. "Can you imagine me trying to put Superman into an armbar? A baby face like that—I'd get so much _**heat**_ I'd melt!"

"Uh...Huh...Okai..." She smiled.

"Oh girl, you're hopeless."

"Hehehehe—If you insist-"

_**KAPOW!.!.!.!**_

Both heroes gasped. They bolted up to their feet and peered over the fire escape, glancing across the street...

...four figures marched out of the gas station. The convenience store building was on fire from an incendiary grenade. Three of the men wore black silk suits and were armed to the teeth with uzis and pistols. One of them was dressed in civillian clothes, barking orders to the other three as they made their way towards a parked semi-truck.

"It's the Dead Men alright-!" Cyborg stopped.

"Wait..." Stargirl breathlessly murmured, then pointed. "That guy in the normal clothes! Wasn't he the-"

"The gas station attendant... ...At least he was when we spotted the place—No, **wait**." Cyborg's brow furrowed.

"Victor, he's an accomplice! He's working _with _the Dead Men!" Stargirl hissed. "This isn't a robbery!"

"Something really smelly is going on down here." Cyborg whipped open a compartment in his forearm and grunted: "Robin. You four getting this?"

"_Snkkkt—Looks like a setup."_

"Hao could they possibly **know** that we're **here**?"

"_It's not that kind of a setup. Raven's sensed something from across the street. There are **others**."_

"Others?" Stargirl blinked. "Others where-?"

_**SHATTER!**_ A storefront exploded.

Cyborg and Stargirl spun to look.

Across the street from the gas station was a familiar retail store—A DVD Rental place. A high school girl in a yellow store clerk's uniform was being shoved forcefully by three gunmen. Two others strolled out, carrying a huge metal crate between them on titanium rods. They were all dressed in bright green-and-yellow jackets.

"Neon Gang..." Cyborg's red eye darted left and right across both sides of the exploding street. "Sonuva**bitch**—This is it!'

"This is what?" Stargirl panted, gripping her cosmic rod tighter as she watched the two groups converge on the semi truck. "Victor, we gotta _do something!"_

"This is a meeting..." He murmured. "For an Underworld! The Neon Hand and the Dead Men—and in that crate-"

"Look!" Stargirl pointed with a gasp.

The girl's struggling legs were bound tightly. Two thugs made sure she couldn't move, slapped her upside the head, and tossed her into the middle of the street before running towards the semi truck—joining the rest of the two groups as the huge vehicle lumbered out under diesel fumes.

"What the Hell...?"

"_Snnkkt—Cyborg! They know we're here! They've manufactured a snare—The girl!"_

"Make that two snares." Cyborg pointed towards the gas station.

Stargirl gasped as she saw two sources of blinking lights around the pumps. Explosive charges.

"They're trying to throw us off with a hostage _and_ an arson!" Cyborg grunted. "We gotta move fast-"

"Darn tootin' we must!" Stargirl leapt off the fire escape, thrust her rod forward, and soared off. "Hostage first-"

"Stargirl!" Cyborg shouted, arm outstretched as he made to leap off. "Don't go alone! They're armed-"

She could no longer hear him. Her eyes were on the semi truck, the helpless young woman, and the violently narrowing distance between the two. She billowed, burned, and surged towards the rapidly thinning space in asphalt between the girl's twitching legs and the truck's menacing grill. As prophecied, a hail of bullets screamed through the air; two masked passengers were aiming their uzis at Stargirl's approaching figure.

She held her breath, pulsated the rod with a burning glow, and melted the approaching bullets away. She missed a few—and they zinged past her, nipping at her hair and spandex. "Nnnnngh!" She comet'd towards the three feet left in front of the shrieking, gasping victim. "Don't worry-I gotcha!" A last grunt, and she slammed the cosmic rod straight into the earth.

_**CLAMP!**_

But when she did so, the cosmic rod was placed between _her and the girl_—on the _girl's side_. Stargirl did this on purpose. She took one glance at the face of the truck, flung a free hand down to her cosmic converter belt, and turned the frequency to maximum.

_Wriiiiii**iiiiiiiiiiiiii-**_

"_Courtney-!"_

"OurFatherwhoartinHeaven-"

_**CRUNNNNNNNCH!.!.!.!**_

In slow motion, the semi truck engine imploded upon her sparkling form, split into two halves, and exploded. The trailer went soaring straight up into the night sky. And—before a breath could gasp—the concussion blast of the impact billowed outward-

-and Courtney's body was shot out like a cannonball, away from the cosmic rod and the untouched figure of the teenaged store clerk. The world spun three times. The Star Spangled Kid's eyes teared, her cosmic converter belt sparkled, and the last thing she dizzily saw was the distant supernova of the gas station's exploding plume into the black womb of night—before she plunged face-first into an upside down billboard.

And then nothing.


	7. Fellowship part 3

_(**Three Months Ago**)_

"_We haven't much time! Look!" Stargirl panted, pointing at the blue monstrosity straight out the shattered frames flanking the alien command center. "The windows are already blocked!"_

"_Cyborg—At least get a **look** at that energy junction node!" Robin shouted._

"_Nnnngh—What about you, man?"_

_Robin was waist deep in rising Bay Water. His eyemask glinted under flickering, dying lights. "I have to find Starfire..."_

"_Koriand'r?" Stargirl gasped. "I haven't seen her for two minutes! Is she—?"_

"_Dudes! Don't look nao, but—"_

_The water started boiling—a deep green hue from underneath. The Star Spangled Kid gasped. She twirled on her grip of the cosmic rod and glanced across the way-_

_-see saw him. He saw her. Two eyes, an ebony canvass, reflecting, twitching, frightened._

_She shrieked above the growing tumult: "Look out—"_

_**POWWWWW!**_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**I know that some people claim to see visions in their dreams. I don't entirely buy that. I mean, I'm sure it worked for Daniel the Prophet and Joseph, husband of Mary—back in the days when divine miracles happened every blessed afternoon. But history today dictates much of what our brains can contemplate, or fabricate. When we have 'brand new visions', we're just piecing together bits and pieces of things we've absorbed into our subconsciousness and reorganizing them into something that seems new and surprising.**

"**There's nothing all that surprising about our team's past, though. The past for us is just one huge unanswered question. A lot of us—or at least some of us—are happy enough to live each daring day of this new life not bothering to pursue an answer. I suppose that's the safest thing to do, the least painful, because if we focused too much on what was lost—on what was _sacrificed—_so few months ago to make this team's current existence possible, we would do nothing but dream... ... ...but we'd never have _progressed_.**

"**Oh, and about the semi truck that slammed into me; _of course_ I was fine. What do you expect from me? I stink at suspense."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 9th, 2004)**

"_Azarath Metrion Zinthos... ... ...Azarath Metrion Zinthos... ... ...Azarath Metrion Zinthos... ..."_

Her blue eyes opened, fluttering. A kaleidoscope of stars flittered overhead against a hazy purple canvass. There was something three times as violet, hovering a few inches above her pelvis. The would be Spangled Kid tried to sit up—wincing in the process...

Two icy hands grasped her shoulder—startling in their coldness, soothing in their gentleness.

"Careful... ...Careful... ...Be slow. You have multiple bruises. You even had a few fractures."

"'Had'... ..?" Courtney blinked at the word, rubbing her head, realizing her mask was off. She turned her head left and right—realized she was in a dark alleyway—and that in the penumbra of her vision were two glowing lights: one a strobe of red and blue, the other a waning amber glow...as firefighters swarmed around what was left of a wasted gas station. "Son of Kong." Courtney groaned. "Did what I think happen _really happen_?"

"I don't know what you think." Raven murmured. "I only know what you feel."

"I feel like crud."

"Being pinballed across the street by a giant diesel automobile will do that. Nao **relax**." Raven's last command came out in a mixed growl.

Courtney obeyed, propping herself up against a brick wall. Her cosmic rod was lying by her side—as was her face mask. Her eyes teered on the distant sight of Victor talking to a few police officers, Beast Boy sniffing the perimeter of the scene in a green-bloodhound form, and an alien redhead hovering high above. Finally, she settled her sights on a certain bored-looking sorceress that was presently kneeling right next to her.

"I'm not used to relaxing on the edge of a battlefield that I've mostly slept through." Courtney muttered.

"I told you to relax, not to practice poetry." Raven murmured, her hands hovering over Courtney's waist and glowing a deep purple. "I need to concentrate..."

"Uhm..." The blonde blinked. "... ...what are you doing?"

"Accelerating the mending process of your muscles, tendons, and joints." Raven murmured. "It took twenty minutes to seal the fissures in your bone marrow."

"You..." Courtney narrowed her eyes. "... ... ...you can do that sort of stuff? I've heard of 'laying on of hands' but this is downright snazzy."

"It's no different from hao I encase a street object with my soul self and manipulate it through telekinesis." Raven boredly murmured. "Though, I must admit, the human anatomy requires a tad bit more delicate attention-" Her hands flickered.

Courtney winced.

"Sorry." Raven lipped.

"It's n-not that...eheheh... ...It t-tickles, kind of."

"Mmm...I wouldn't know."

"Never had to _'heal'_ yourself?"

"I try not to leap in front of semi trucks like a heroic idiot."

"Er...yeah. Eheheh..." Courtney gulped. "Did I save... ...?—Er... ...th-that is to say... ... ...Do y-you know what happened to the-?"

"The young woman who was held hostage was not physically harmed." Raven throated. "Try as I may to pointlessly chastise your chivalry—Your timing was magnificent. She owes her life to you."

Courtney blushed. She tucked a blonde strand behind her ear. "W-Well, I wouldn't exactly say _that_..."

"Please. Your modesty is overwhelming." Raven's sarcasm was practically saturated, like two gallons of syrup on a half plate of waffles. "If only the perpetrators could be nearly as thankful..."

Courtney bracedly bit her lip. "Erm... ...I-I didn't... ...uh... ..._**kill**_ anyone, did I?"

"Luckily, no. Two suffered bruised sternums and cracked ribs. Two others suffered multiple scrapes. Still, the fact of the matter is, in spite of all of their attempts to spread murder and flames, they are nao experiencing the vicious hand of karma."

"Did any get away?"

"Remarkably, no. While Beast Boy and Cyborg went after the fire, Starfire and Robin snagged the remaining suspects before they could make a run for it. All in all, a relatively successful night—Minus one gas station."

Courtney glanced at Raven's hands of healing. "Did you... ...D-Did you try healing the suspects who got injured in the truck crash?"

Raven paused. She looked up, two violet eyes dully blinking. "No. I didn't bother."

Courtney nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"Should I have-?"

"No—I mean Yes—I mean..." Courtney winced again, but managed a smile. "Don't let me judge what you should or shouldn't do with your powers. All I know is, Raven, I owe you one. Thanks."

"I'd tell you to 'not mention it' but somehao I think that's impossible, considering hao chatty you and Garfield are."

"Well, at least I know you're not patronizing me with your bedside manner." Courtney rolled her eyes.

"Hao do you feel?"

"Stupid. Lucky. Thankful. A little guilty."

"Any given day, I'm sure." Raven's eyes narrowed. "I mean _physically_. Is there any _pain_?"

"Well...I'm _kinda sore_ in my gut. But not _cracked ribs_ sort of 'sore'. I've had broken bones before. This is nowhere near that sort of _excruciating_. I feel like I'm waking up from a car wreck the previous day... ...heh..."

"It'll pass. Trust me."

"Oh, I do, Raven."

"Any other pain?"

"Nah..." Courtney's twitching hands wandered down her sides. "Sides are kinda achy—But it isn't so bad. Hips are okay. My legs are fine—_**MY FEET-!**_**" **Courtney gasped, for her boots were cleanly removed, revealing a glint of metal from her left 'ankle'. She tried with clumsy hands to grip it, to _hide_ it, but merely teetered numbly in the futility of the matter. She exhaled with slump shoulders under the weight of exposure.

"I'm sorry." Raven unemotionally blurted. "I had to see if your skeletal structure was alright. I removed your boots."

"N-Nothing to be sorry about. J-Just... ... ..." Courtney sighed. She slipped her left boot back on, then her right. "... ...Nothing."

"When I use my soul-self out in the field, I become spatially sensitive to people and things around me," Raven finished the last healing touches around Courtney's midriff, hands flickering. "I had always suspected that there was something you weren't telling us. Though, nao that I know, I don't understand why..."

"Personal prerogative." Courtney murmured, rubbing the limb just above the boot'd joint. "Something from a battle long ago..._Well... ..._not _long ago_ **enough**."

"I don't see the point in hiding it."

"Doc Hunnicutt knows."

"But the others? The team-?"

"I'm sure you have... ...pl-plenty of _secrets_ of your own, Raven..." Courtney murmured.

"Yeah, sure." Raven nodded, standing up and adjusting her robe. "But my secrets don't need _crutches_."

"It's never been a liability." The blonde said. "You've seen me in the field. I'm more than capable. I can even kick butt—**literally**."

"I never said you couldn't." Raven muttered. "It's just a pointless secret, that's all."

"Is there such a thing?"

"As...?"

"A pointless secret..." Courtney stared off into the urban shadows. "I mean, everybody has to have _something_ to hang onto, right? Something that is theirs and theirs alone? Something that makes them know that, out of the chaos and unpredictability of life, there is one thing—even if it's only a memory—that they can hold onto, as if it's _theirs_? To pretend that not _all_ from the past is lost?"

"You _do_ know who you're talking to, don't you?"

Courtney smiled. She glanced softly up at the sorceress. "No. I don't, Raven. Though, I'd like to know more."

"Also pointless..." Raven drew her hood over her fair head. "... ...you're healed. My work here is done."

"Awww... ...Don't fly away, Raven..." Courtney smiled. "What's the harm in a simple conversation?"

"There is **no** such thing as a _simple_ conversation. Especially not with anyone on this team."

"But hao would you know?" Courtney slid her mask on, grabbed her cosmic rod, and used it to help herself up. "You're always hovering about in the corner, refusing to so much as _look_ at us. You go on lonely walks at unearthly hours in the middle of the day _and_ night. You avoid us like the plague—And for what? What's so important to cling onto that you must forsake something so nice as a simple 'how do you do'?"

"I am willing to assist you in keeping _your secret_." Raven murmured, waving a dainty hand towards Courtney's lower legs. "I would only hope you are similarly respectful in not trouncing upon mine."

"Nobody's gonna force you to 'fess up on anything you don't want to, Raven." Stargirl smiled, she shuffled over, wincing slightly but recovering. "But, come on! Not _everything_ about you has got to be a classified government file!"

"Like...?"

"Like what it is you like to eat for breakfast!" Stargirl exclaimed, gesturing. "What type of music do you like to listen to? What's your favorite flavor of ice cream? What part of the day _or night_ fills you with the most joy and fulfillment? What, out of all the many million different books you read, do you like most?"

"I don't see what's so important about any of those things..."

"Because they're _important to you!_" Stargirl breathed, leaning forward. "We're part of a _team_, Raven. We're gonna be fighting together, working together, and—heck!-_living_ together for Lord knows hao long! That makes us more than potential friends—That makes us like sisters!"

"Heh." Raven snorted, a hint of a pale curve from under the shadow of her hood. "That'll be the day."

Stargirl pointed at the sorceress' face. She grinned. "See? That isn't so bad either!"

"You're seeing things..."

"Am I?" Stargirl smirked. "I'm not alone. We all want to know more about you—And we wouldn't force you to give up any information that you'd like to keep to yourself, Raven. We're your _friends—_And we _want to be_ your friends! And friends share things—Even the _pointless_ things! It makes healing each other after a brush with death feel a lot less like fixing a bicycle!"

Raven hovered in the shadows, looking like a discarded puppet, dangling loosely within the embrace of her robe. She clutched a nervous hand to the blue folds. "... ...like wh-what would you possibly want to know?"

"Like where have you **been** over the last three months?" Stargirl smiled warmly. "What did you do? Who did you see? Where did you go?"

"Nothing, nobody, and nowhere spectacular in the least..."

"You sure of that?" Stargirl gestured towards the distant lights. "Robin ran all across the Seaboard, chasing druglords. Cyborg took a trip to Canada before barreling back here and becoming the veritable Donald Trump of Jump City. Beast Boy went on a merry romp across the globe—from Europe, to Brazil, to _Antartica!_ Starfire went to flippin' Outer Space and back!"

"And you...-?"

The blonde warmly nodded. "And I went home, realized I didn't belong there anymore, survived a violent brush with the past, and finally gave it all up to come back here. I only wish I had done it sooner; three months is a long time to realize you belong somewhere else."

"I'll take your word for it..."

"But surely _you_ had to have been up to something too, Raven!" Stargirl exclaimed. "I mean, the law of averages demand it! So, why don't you spill? You know what _we_went through! We've had our conversations—Why don't you step up to the plate?"

"Nao's not really the time..."

"When is it ever **the time**?" Stargirl beamed. "Come on, Raven. Where were you over the last three months?"

"... ... ... ... ... ..." She shifted where she stood in the shadows. "... ... ...I was here."

Stargirl raised an eyebrow beneath her mask. "H-Here?"

"That's right. Here."

"In Jump City?"

"Does this look like _Paris_ to you?"

"Heeheehee-And what did you do **here**?"

"I meditated."

"... ... ... ... ...That's it?"

"-And I took walks. And I got to see the sights, hear the sounds, smell the... ... ...smells ... of this City."

"So..." Stargirl blinked. "What you're trying to say is... ...You did for the last three months the same thing you've been doing lately, alone."

"You have no idea what I've been doing lately."

"Heeheehee..." Stargirl shook her head and palmed her mask'd face. "_Unnnnngh—_Do you really **mean** to be such a **mystery**, Raven?"

"I only mean to be myself."

"There's no crime in that, I suppose."

"I would hope not."

"Other than those things you said—That's all? Nothing adventurous or wild or crazy happened during those three months you spent in Jump City?"

"It's pointless to speculate over what you would find wild or not wild..." Raven droned. "...I discovered the library, read a lot of new books, tried out some different foods, got a tattoo, went to the theatre once-"

"Wait-"

"-got badgered by a random sales clerk to pre-purchase some imbecilic electronic entertainment product called 'Halo 2'..."

"Wait—**Wait**." Stargirl all but dropped the cosmic rod, leaning her head forward and blinking. "... ...you got a tattoo?"

"Yes." Raven nodded. Her pale face peeled out slowly from under the hood like an unemotional eclipse. "Is that so surprising?"

"It's just... ...well... ..." Stargirl ran a hand through her blonde threads. "If someone told me you did Tai Chi in the park, I'd believe it. If someone told me you shopped for new robes, I might even buy that. But the idea of you base jumping, dancing the tango, getting a _tattoo_?.!.?.!"

Raven frowned. "I knew this was pointless." She began to turn-

"N-No! Raven, please...!" Stargirl chuckled and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Don't flee or nothing. It's nothing terrible. I'm just—snkkkt..." She shook her head, smiling. "... ...you caught me off guard, is all."

"You're touching me."

Stargirl cleared her throat; she hung her hand by her side. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Raven tilted her head boredly at the blonde again. "If you must know, it's nothing exotic."

"What isn't?"

"The tattoo."

"Oh."

"Merely an impressionistic display of an avarian design."

"Oh what—A bird?" Stargirl smiled. "A raven?"

"Yes-"

"Well, that sounds pretty awesome-"

"-about two centimeters above the tailbone."

"Duhh—**Huh**?" Stargirl blinked.

Just then, Cyborg walked into frame. "What's this I hear about someone getting a tramp stamp?"

"Uhhhh-"

"I was attempting to follow Stargirl's suggestion of _sharing_ my past. I was just regailing her on a tattoo I had gotten-"

"**YOU** got a **TRAMP STAMP?**" Victor gaped, his metal jaw dropping.

"Snkkkkkt-" Stargirl covered her braced teeth. "Heeheeheehee!"

Raven frowned. "I'm **leaving**."

"N-Noooo! Raven...snkkt...Please..." Stargirl stammered between breathy laughs and hiccups. "It's okay! I m-mean it! It's okaaaaaay-"

"We leave you alone in the City for three months and you get a _**tramp stamp**_?"

"Waste of time." Raven floated off towards the rooftops over the brightly lit scene. _"Next time I consider humoring your talkativeness, punch me hard in the kidneys."_

"Awwwww..." Stargirl pouted. "Dang it. I was so close."

"To doing what?" Cyborg rubbed the human half of his head. "Writing the _Tori Amos _Memoirs with Miss Sunshine there?"

"I was just trying to get her to **open up**, Victor. Is that so much of a crime?"

"We're here to stop violence, not cause it—Especially when it could involve a certain blue haired sorceress spontaneously giving you a hysterectomy _with a **streetlamp**_."

"It was all well and good before you decided to march in and balk at her honesty."

"I only marched in to see if you were still mostly-dead in the Billy Crystal sense." Cyborg smiled, he lifted her chin up with a metal hand. "You still in one piece, girl?"

Stargirl took a deep, warm breath. "Y-Yeah, Vic..." She smiled up at him. "Still as alive and klutzy as ever..."

"Good. I sent B.B. to go buy a trenchcoat."

She blinked confusedly. "Wh-What for?"

"For you to wear and hide your bewbs." He suddenly frowned. "That way you'll look like a _guy_ long enough for me to sock you one across the cheek; for making my internal hard drive short-circuit when you dove into the street earlier like a camera-hungry martyr!"

Stargirl winced, one eye squeezed shut as her whole body twisted. "Hsnkkkkt-_Yeahhhhh_. That was...erm... ...k-kinda suicidey of me, wasn't it?"

"You're dayum lucky it wasn't _you_ that split in half instead of the semi truck."

Stargirl blinked. "I _split the truck in **half**?"_

"Thankfully—Thinking with your skull used the _brain_ that was _inside_ it. Cuz not only did you save the girl's life—But all suspects barely lasted half a minute from the crazy whiplash of impact before we arrested them all. Still..." He sighed and folded his arms. "...it would have been a heck of a lot cleaner had we _**planned**_ something before you rushed in like Joan of Arc on a motorcyle."

"I-I'm sorry, Vic..." Stargirl hung limply, guiltily off the golden rod. "It's just that—Those creeps were gonna _pulverize_ her. I didn't wanna waste time and let it happen—So I thought with my stick—_heh_-and made the plunge."

"I know what you were feeling." He said, red eye dimming slightly. "Always concerned for the _little picture._"

"Heh." She brightened slightly with a smile. "Glad to know someone _listens_ to me after all."

"You should listen back." He pointed. "I've told the group a long time ago—Y'all should _trust _me. It's all about timing—Even in the crucial moments like just tonight. You gotta understand, I can make the millions upon millions of calculations a second with my clockwork box here..." He pointed at the metal half of his skull. "...I **am** capable of commanding what has to be done—**when **it has to be done. And on top of my capabilities, I also happen to be the team leader."

"Yes, Vic."

"If you can't wait long enough to follow the orders of your team leader, you could get your head smashed in one minute too early!"

"Yes, Vic."

"Just give me a leap of faith next time by _not leaping in—_That's all I ask."

"Yes, Vic-"

"And enough fo the 'Yes Vic's'! You're sounding like the girlfriend I've never had! Dayum!"

Stargirl gave him a sickly smirk. "Don't pretend that someone like you has never had a girlfriend."

"Hao many chicks out there are willing to play on an Xbox?"

"A lot more than you think, I'm sure-"

"Hao many more of them are willing to make out with one?"

"Oh...Uhm... ...Er..."

"Just as I thought." Cyborg nodded. "Anyways..." He turned to look towards the scene. "Things are crazy. This scene is _golden_. The police are all scratching their heads too. You should come and look at the _wicked stuff_ we pilfered out of the back of that truck you smashed-"

An amber blur soared by him, making the android spin in place three times ("Whoah dayum!").

_**GRIP!**_

Stargirl wheezed to find herself at the receiving end of one of Starfire's massive hugs.

"Urk-"

"Friend Courtney! You are in one piece!" The warrioress joyfully beamed and embraced her mightily. "I was worried so! Did Raven's administration expertly bring you back to a wellness of being?"

"Snkkkt—Just in time to be ground back to dust by your gentle considerations..." Stargirl wheezed.

"Eeep!" Starfire let go and blushed a deep green. "I am most sorry. With each passing night, our task here gets ever so increasingly perilous. I know that I am fully capable of surviving blunt force with a dastardly earth vehicle—But I had not expected you to be so durable, nor courageously willing to experiment thusly..."

"Guess there's a scientist in me after all..." Stargirl re-straightened her costume and breathed normally once more. A warm look towards the Tamaranian. "I'm grateful for your compassion, Kory."

"As I am grateful for your continued existence, Courtney." The alien said.

The blonde blinked at that. Something inside her warmly melted...

"Come on..." Cyborg motioned again. "...less fluff and more forensics, girls." He led them towards the crime scene. "I want y'all to take a close look..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**I knew that we had more pressing concerns at the time, but I'm sure Victor couldn't blame me for trying—for trying _with Raven_.**

"**It's an inherent necessity among superhumans to attempt solving an enigma in their sight. You should know this more than anyone, of course. It wouldn't surprise you to know that there really isn't any enigma more curious, more diverting, more unassumingly glaring than the dark-haired wizardess who floats among us. Raven has powers that defy explanation. She is capable of disassembling a helicopter from two hundred feet with a flick of her wrist—And she can heal a deep wound with a touch of her fingers. She does all of this with a marvelous grace, a feminine beauty, and a humble silence. She doesn't ask for much, she rejects even more, and she would want nothing more in the world—so it seems—than just to be alone.**

"**When you have a hero in your midst that possesses astonishing power, it's awe-inspiring, to say the least. When you have a hero in your midst with astonishing power who doesn't bother to say so much as a _word_ of introduction—it becomes downright intimidating. Robin manages to pull this off—but with him, it's an intentional act, and for all things considered he's casting a perpetual bluff, because he doesn't have any superpowers, much less any that are definitively 'astonishing'. But with Raven—she makes the universe _fear her_ by her _simple presence_. I'm not entirely sure she means for this to be the way it is—if perhaps it's an essentialist argument about the nature of her being, or not.**

"**If Raven were to open up, if she were to let us know the deep, sensitive, and wanting human being she is underneath the violet shroud—Then perhaps we wouldn't have to be automatically subjected to the same aura of malevolent mystique that she so ardently presses upon the criminal populace. But, despite her words to the contrary, I really think she _wants _to open up—She just isn't absolutely certain yet that her new teammates are the _right people_ to open up to.**

"**And I see her—fidgeting in the corner with her book when she thinks she's invisible, or in the streets as she glances flippantly at a passing mother and child, or over the rooftops at night when she's briefly and secretly looking down at the bright lights of a strobing dance hall—I see Raven wanting, _wanting_, to be something different, something more, something that's _not alone_.**

"**The rest of us—the _five of us—_have all made a gamble, betting on exactly what it is that Raven does on her lone walks, lone flights, lone strolls through Jump City—when the rest of us are eating, sleeping, training, doing homework, or just being a group. I suppose it's sick to draw lots over Raven's secret life—I mean, we don't do it over Robin's alter ego—but we can't help it. The girl is—like I've said—an enigma. A sweet, strong, well-centered, humble—although bitterly surfaced enigma.**

"**But in the end, I think wherever she goes, whatever she does, whomever it is she might be _seeing—_it's an outlet, and her only outlet. And I can only hope—or more appropriately desire—that one day she will allow us to be that outlet, to allow us into that estuary of truth and emotion, to allow us to be her _friends_..."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 10th, 2004)**

_-Click-_

An image of a metal alien cube with several cylindrical pistons appeared on the monitor in the briefing room of Phaser Labs. Cyborg walked by, lowering his hand from the appropriate button on his wrist.

"This is what we scooped up from the attempted transport at the gas station." The team leader said, pointing with a titanium finger. "It was sealed securely in a large container that the Neon Hand were carrying between them like the Ark of the Covenant. The entire transfer operation was a textbook attempt at diversion—something many gangs in Bludhaven use. They assumed that with a combined arson and murder—they could throw off any attempt by cops or heroes to follow their trail. But this _isn't_ Bludhaven, is it?" He smiled briefly. "Little did they know that an entire team had been tipped off—our team, and we were at the right place and at the right time to make the most advatangeous interception yet in our pursuit of the Underworld. Robin?"

Robin strolled into view besides the monitor and Cyborg. "The police and I questioned the suspects... ... ...in _our own various ways... _... ... And they aren't speaking. There's much more at stake than just any single gang lord threatening their neck—They have an entire underground union to keep concealed. Still—this interrupted operation reveals a major crack in the shell that the Underworld is using to hide itself. The Dead Men planted one of their own members into the gas station weeks ago—a new employee. They worked with him to acquire the semi truck for transportation. Residue from the plastique explosives used at the gas station match many used in Shanghai and Hong Kong—and were likely smuggled in through the _Panama Express._ While the Dead Men set up the wheels and fireworks, the Neon Hand snuck the container with the alien technology into the building of the video retail store, took a hostage, came out at the appropriate time, and tossed the victim out into the street at the precise moment of the getaway. If we weren't there, the fire would have spread, an innocent life would have been lost, and a key piece of dangerous alien hardware might have entered the black market beyond Jump City limits."

"In regards to the life saved...We all have a certain blonde cheerleader to thank..." Cyborg winked.

Stargirl blushed, scrunching deeper into her chair at the briefing table.

"Yeah! You go girl!" Beast Boy nudged her.

"Most wonderfully done, friend Courtney..." Starfire smiled.

Stargirl took a deep breath, then furrowed her brow: _"I am so **not** a cheerleader..."_

"All nine suspects—both from the Dead Men and the Neon Hand—are currently being incarcerated at North Prison," Cyborg spoke. "We've gotten as much out of them as we can—But nao they're in the hands of City Law Enforcement. Still—the _evidence at the scene_ is more than enough for us to work on for the time being-"

"What's to work on?" Beast Boy had his boots kicked up on the edge of the table. He shrugged mightily with a blank expression. "Ain't that the magic bullet? We've got two groups—each associated with two known gangs—And they were working with each other to sneak evil alien stuff through the City! Well, there's your pathetic _Underworld_ right there. Case closed, am I right?"

Cyborg took a deep breath. "Believe me, little man, I wish it were that easy."

"And just why can't it be?" The elf blinked.

"... ... ..." Cyborg glanced aside at Robin. The Boy Wonder stood with his arms folded, eyemask glinting back at the half-android. Mr. Stone groaned and said: "I had a long and heavy talk with Commissioner Kneehouse. She isn't quite convinced. I rightfully don't blame her—All we've found is a key...but no keyhole. As far as she's concerned—And as far as _we can be concerned_, for that matter, the _location_ of the Underworld remains a mystery."

"What does she see this latest development as, then?" Raven asked, eyebrow raised.

"She _believes_ that the two groups of suspects we found were simply rogue cliques that splintered off from the two major gangs of this City. Her hypothesis is that members of both the Dead Men and the Neon Hand—unsatisfied with their share in the criminal resources—have resorted to relocating and forming an adversarial and hitherto unnamed group."

"Sounds like she just coined her own idea of the 'Underworld'..." Raven droned. Stargirl glanced her way as the sorceress went on: "Who's to say that if we find more evidence of the real threat—She may just count it off as evidence for this new speculative idea—A brand new gang forming in the streets, independent of the Dead Men and Neon Hand."

"Right...**BUT**-" Cyborg pointed and looked at everyone. "We all know that ain't true, ya hear?"

"Do we?" Raven leaned her blue head to the side. "What's to say that she isn't correct in her assessment? She's obviously working in the best interest of her City-"

"-_Commissioner Kneehouse_ is working in the best interest of _her resources_—Which ain't _big enough_ to tackle the **real threat** at hand!" Cyborg frowned. "And that threat is an unfathomably huge, indescribably conniving criminal organization comprised of united factions that were originally assumed separate."

"It is highly unlikely that two splinter groups—so small as the type we intercepted—would attempt to make off with their formers gangs' smuggled treasure while making such a big show." Robin said. "We may be just six superheroes with our eyes on their movement—But the walls and windows of this City have far more eyes than ours—thousands of which belong to the Underworld alone."

"A logical assessment, Robin." Raven nodded. "But hao much of this is just hypothetical talk?"

"... ... ..." Robin merely stared back.

"It ain't gonna be _hypothetical_ for long!" Cyborg raised a finger, gathering everyone's attention. "Whether or not the JCPD is supporting us, it's our job to find _proof_ that this Underworld exists—And the piece of alien junk we found is gonna help us do just that!" He pivoted about. "Star? Care to toss in your own two cents?"

"I am certainly most willing to assist in the briefing, Victor..." Koriand'r stood up. "...though I do not possess any Terran currency to launch towards your person."

"Er...r-right. Atta girl, Star..." He gestured a hand out for her.

Koriand'r hovered over towards the monitor and faced the rest of the group as she gestured at the image of the alien device. "This is a Gordanian Electromagnetic Field Conductor. It is used by Gordanian warships and mid-level transports when combating enemy spacecraft. The device siphons energy from the warship's core to project a focused fire of electromagnetic energy towards the preferred target. If the enemy spacecraft is dependent on electrical and plasmatic circuitry, then the Gordanian Electromagnetic Field Conductor remotely nullifies all ship's functions—allowing a vulnerable window in their defense grid for the Gordanians to exploit. This form of technology far exceeds that which is typically employed by civilizations on Terra Firma—but if this single device had made it into the right hands, it could have been nefariously re-engineered to serve as an Electromagnetic Pulse Generator."

"The Underworld could have developed the ability to turn the lights out in entire cities within the blink of an eye." Cyborg explained.

Starfire squinted at him. "Thank you, Victor, but I do believe they acquired that inference from my summary, yes?"

He sweatdropped...

"All right. So it's a big bad toy." Beast Boy nodded, arms folded. "It's a darn good thing we've got it and _they_ don't. So—hao exactly does this help us in finding the Underworld?"

"I'm willing to bet..." Cyborg paced besides Starfire. "...that the Underworld has more of these alien death machines up their sleeves than we're willing to believe. Out beyond the shores of Jump City is a Big Bay—and a Big Ship fell into it—and both of them are marinating in the embrace of an even bigger Ocean. Despite all we've kept track of and _tried_ to keep track of, there's bound to be dozens if not _hundreds_ of unaccounted-for pieces of Gordanian crud that could be exploited by God knows who. If we can find a way to trace these things—and zero in on what makes them tick—we might be able to find a large enough cluster of them to dig up in one big push, thus exposing a rockbed of criminals and, hopefully, our elusive Underworld."

Starfire nodded, facing the rest of the room. "There is a peculiar radiation signature left by all Gordanian technology when the core energy source that they were originally fused to is suddenly and irrevocably terminated. The intention here is for the Gordanian devices to become _inert—_a failsafe for if they were ever to fall into enemy hands. But, with enough resources and engineering tenacity—any group of nefarious people could very easily salvage what is left over from a Gordanian wreck. Howbeit, they would inevitably have to resort to junctioning the pilfered technology to an alternative energy source. The result of this would be a molecular degrade of key energy circuits inside the technology, resulting in a photonic emission that would very clearly show up on appropriate spectral analyses." Her green eyes darted Robin's way.

The Boy Wonder joined in at the right time. "I've already performed such a spectral analysis of the alien technology we stumbled across. The Gordanian Electromagnetic Field Conductor shows up like a roman candle under the right fields of scan. Though anyone has yet to prove this, it seems reasonable to assume that the photonic emissions increase in relation to the amount of manipulation that's been done on the technology—such as humans using Terran energy sources to pump power into the Gordanian hardware. If we compare the rate of photonic emissions of what we found last night to the things that the Coast Guard have already dragged up from the Bay—we could find a way to differentiate the data given off by what is normal wreckage from technology that has been worked on by meddling humans."

"Then..." Koriand'r nodded Cyborg's way. "...we could cross-reference that with Cyborg's scan of the radiation signals and find a scale for use in scanning the City for Gordanian debris."

"We would then have a possible avenue for finding our silver bullet..." Cyborg folded his arms and smiled proudly. "...we could possibly even dig up the Underground."

"Very well then." Raven droned. "Where do we go and what do we poke?"

"Ugh... ... ..." Beast Boy slumped against the table and ran a hand over his face. "... ...are we going where I _think_ we're going?"

Cyborg nodded. "Dang straight, little man—To the place where there's the largest collection of Gordanian technology known to the public."

"Fuuuu... ... ...Have I mentioned I hate field trips?"

Starfire blinked. "But we are not going to a field-"

Raven shot up out of her chair. "Let's just **go**, already!"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**In just one and a half short weeks, I have seen enough spectacular things with this Team to make you drool—I'm sure. After all, why am I bothering to write you about all this? Come to think of it, I don't really know why I'm writing you anything—or if I'm even gonna send you all of this drivel. I suppose I'm writing just for myself, yanno. I mean, why does anyone write so much about so little?**

"**At the time, as we chased these Gordanian 'radiation and spectral' smoke rings, it was a real challenge to keep oneself enthused. Don't get me wrong—I like the whole superhero business. But it's the _saving people _and _beating up bad guys_ part that I've always loved. The rest of it—the detective work, the scientific analysis, the sleuthing and interrogation—I've long learned to appreciate it, but I've never been all that crazy about it. Boys like Cyborg and Robin get high off the whole procedure, I'm sure. And I have faith in them to connect the dots—as I would have faith in myself to connect the dots, though I'm usually too bored to attempt to do so on my own—but sometimes I wish the process wasn't so lengthy. I wish we could be getting more results with half as much data. But hey, we're only human—everyone except Starfire, that is. And maybe Beast Boy. And...uhm...Cyborg's only half-human, eh...you get the point...**

"**I suppose another part of the whole slump in excitement was—well—I could see that Cyborg was _reaching_. And I do mean _really_ _reaching_. This investigation was his to start, but it was no longer his to finish. I've had glimpses of the loud and frustrating meetings he had with Commissioner Kneehouse and her various detectives—but I was never quite a participant in those heated discussions...at least not yet at that point. But Cyborg was starting to run into blockades—more and more of them as time went on. The poor guy; to be trying so hard to make progress, and then to stumble into the cinderblocks of red tape when he had so much momentum to carry him, but instead floundering in one spot while the dark shadows of Jump City spiraled unhindred around him...**

"**I've never dealt much with police officers and law enforcement when doing the whole superhero team thing. That always seemed a job for tactful negotiators and metaphysical ambassadors, like Green Arrow and the Flash. I knew that I was just a teenager, and in time—if I stuck with this 'business' for much longer—I would eventually _have_ to work elbow-to-elbow with people who had to use a badge and a mountain of intestinal fortitude to do the very same thing I do so freely each and every day with a mere flick of my cosmic rod.**

"**At the risk of sounding cliché, Victor had a dream. He still does—but it is something as dreamt of in the midst of a fitful morning sleep, with the encroaching penumbra of a bright and burning Sun melting away all the fine details he could otherwise have a grasp of. That's a horrible way to start a day, to embark upon a journey, to raise a prospective team from the ashes of prior failure and into a new horizon of strength and resilience. I don't even possess half the male ego that the half-android does, and yet still I can utterly _feel_ the venomous slings of pain he must be sludging through, day by day, having to make sense of all this.**

"**If there is anything that Victor has control of—where he is most natural swimming in—it is science. I'm no stranger to the school of logic and observation that Mother Nature has so graciously donated us either—and I can appreciate the attention that Victor pays to every detail he stumbles upon, to find an answer that is immutable, solid, and most potent in outlining the target he is so fervently pursuing... ... ...even if the pursuit is a long and arduous one.**

"**Thus it is all the more painful and personal a blow to imagine that Victor has suffered as of late—with this most recent debacle concerning the Kobayashi entourage. I totally agree with him that it was a setup—a most vicious one at that. But it just seems like the most perfectly horrible rut to get stuck in, here and nao, a pit forged by the shovels of both the Underworld and Jump City's red taped disgust at what we're here to do, or what they think we're here _pretending_ to do...**

"**I must tell myself not to take it personally. I must keep my eyes under my mask, my hands to the rod, and my feet to the streets. If I'm to serve Victor and his team from hereon out, it is not as Courtney Whitmore the doubter—but Stargirl the soldier. If we falter—we, whom Victor most deeply depends on—then what is it that he will have left? He leans on so much as it is, so much that's been robbed from him, I hate for the very heart of the man—the safety of his City—to fall out from under him. For that reason, above all else, I work so very hard nao—as I worked hard then...all day... ... ...at North Prison.**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Later that day, _seven hours later _to be exact, the team of superheroes lumbered further around the large open storage area built into the westmost wing of the triangular prison structure. A huge metallic room, two football fields in size, stretched from shiny wall to shiny wall, filled to the brim with all sorts of glittering alien junk. This place was normally a backup armory, a reserved space for medical quarantine—even a spot to house potential rioters in the event of a jailbreak. Over the course of the last three months, it had been reduced to a graveyard for dozens upon dozens of bits of Gordanian technology dragged up from the Jump City Bay.

Still, it was the most use that North Prison had gotten in ages. The huge, triangularly built facility rested in the cleft of the forested mountains that lingered north of Jump City—just beyond the haze of its grimy Industrial District. The facility was constructed half-heartedly with a whole-hearted budget to serve as a backup for metaphysical criminals housed in the two large prisons on the outskirts of Metropolis, further to the north.

"Come to think of it..." Beast Boy grumbled, wiping sweat and soot from his brow as he raised a metal alien bulkhead with two gorilla hands. "...why don't they just call this place South Prison?"

"Hush and keep the thing steady." Victor muttered, waving a blinking scanner. "I need to make a reading of this thang and you keep moving it everytime you talk."

"Well excuuuuuuse me, princess!" The green elf smirked wryly. "I mean—it was fortunate that this huge-A place was built here in time to serve as a makeshift warehouse for E.T.'s leftovers, but don't you think they could have named it better? Hao about Jumpgate? Get it? It's like Gotham's Stonegate, only I mixed it with-"

"Hush up! Dayum..." Victor groaned, waving his scanner more intently with a furrowed brow.

Beast Boy rolled his eyes. He looked across the gravestones of alien devices and 'shrugged' his eyebrows Stargirl's way.

Stargirl smirked reassuringly, then returned to the monotonous process of waving a scanner along the rusted underside of a half-shattered Gordanian computer console that Starfire was effortlessly lifting before her with super strength. Off to the side, at least three rows down, Raven was telekinetically raising a similar chunk of indistinguishable alien gizmos for Robin to get a reading on. There was no heavy thinking to this part of the exercise—merely a rhythmic collecting of data, which is what made the prolonged ordeal all the more vexing.

"The air's so thick, you can cut it with a knife..." Stargirl muttered, dutifully performing her scan and making sure to capture the gordanian metal from all angles. "...you'd think after the job we did last night, we'd be in better spirits."

"I do not see hao one is capable of physically slicing a compressed atmosphere of oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon dioxide with a kitchen utensil—But I am certainly agreeing with you on the matter of sullen spirits." Starfire murmured. Her voice was low and hushed, devoid of the usual uppity flutter in her throat. "I do not suppose I have related to you the fact that I am capable of _'reading'_ off the heartbeats of others..."

"Not exactly." Stargirl briefly smiled. "But I would have no doubt of it, Kory."

"Everyone in this room beats with a languid pulse..." The Tamaranian said defeatedly. "I deeply regret uttering this, but I imagine that our illustrious leader is partially reponsible for such. His heart is the most heavy right nao, after all..."

"You really believe that?"

"It is not a matter of _belief_, friend Courtney. I assure you, it is a firm **understanding**." Koriand'r re-gripped the metal chunk in her hands as the Star Spangled Kid paced around with the scanner. "X'hal does not lightly donate Her gifts of emphathic sensitivity. Cyborg is most vexxed by frustration. Beast Boy is confused and anxious. Raven is bored outside the skeletal structure of her cranium—_as Homo sapiens would put it_. The only one I have a difficulty _reading _is Robin, though I seriously doubt you would have guessed otherwise."

"He's a hard egg to crack, that Robin..." Stargirl murmured. She blinked curiously from the device towards Star. "And what of my heart?"

"Hmm?"

"Hao am _I_ beating?"

"Yours is still the most hopeful..." Koriand'r's lips curved slightly. "Which is why I am most selfishly glad to be partnering with _you_ during this present endeavor."

"I suppose I should take that as a compliment..." Stargirl bracedly bit her lip. "But somehao it only makes me feel bad."

"Ohhh...I am most apologetic-"

"Nothing to be sorry about." Stargirl sighed, finishing her scan. She stood in place and plink'd away at the device, inputting the final bits of grabbed data. "It's just that nothing in this City is turning out to be as easy as we first thought it was—And Cyborg isn't the only one who realizes this. What we stumbled upon last night should have been more than enough to convince the police forces of this City to assist us—But here we are, wading through alien bric-a-brac, alone once more."

"Truly an unfortunate predicament..." Koriand'r nodded. "But all the more for us to prove our strength by exercising our talents forthwith."

"Heh...at least _one_ of us is optimistic." Stargirl smirked.

"If you insist." Starfire gestured towards the huge metal slab in her hand. "I take it you are finished acquiring data from this sample?"

Stargirl nodded. "Yup. You can put it down if you want-"

_**CLANNNNNG!**_ Starfire unceremoniously dropped it.

Stargirl jumped—startled. She glanced nervously over her shoulder towards the other four, most of whom were also glancing over in disgruntled curiosity. Courtney gulped, returned to facing Starfire and leaned forward to whisper: _"Kory... ...Don't we wanna—I dunno—keep these bits of evidence in **one piece**_?"

Koriand'r was briefly deadpan as she paced over towards the next row of junk. "There is nothing special nor worthy of preservation amongst these scraps of Gordanian filth."

"Well, it's _only **evidence**_, Kory-"

"All of these materials were formerly employed in the use of slave trading, illicit pangalactic smuggling, and unadulterated warmongering. This warship alone ended entire worlds' worth of civilizations, shattered lives, decimated families..." She viciously lifted another chunk of debris and turned towards the mask'd blonde to scan it. "There is no room in X'hal's loving embrace for the memorialization of its putrid residue."

"I respect both your convictions and your poetry, Kory..." Courtney gulped, then proceeded to scan the next piece in the Tamaranian's grasp. "But—if _X'hal_ has a plan for you to follow through—then that means holding back on your feelings and treating this stuff with slightly more graceful hands, don'tcha think?"

"I cannot _hold back_ my feelings, dearest Courtney..." Starfire uttered in a deep air of melancholy, her green eyes trailing over the surface of the metal mesh in her grasp. "... ...it is against all that I am, all that I was raised to be, all that I can naturally exert myself in fulfilling. My people know nothing of concealing our feelings or our true intentions, even if it means... ...if it means... ... ... ..."

Silence.

Stargirl wasn't intimately aware of just _hao unnervingly quiet _it had been until one full minute of had passed. She glanced her blond head towards Starfire, back at her scanning job, then back at the alien girl again. "Kory?" She blinked. "Kory, is something the matter?"

"... ... ... ..." The redheaded warrioress' emerald eyes were moistly affixed to the particular chunk of Gordanian metal in her hands. "... ... ...this is an automatic door to a Citadelian slave pen."

Stargirl raised a Vulcan eyebrow. "Slave... ...Pen... ...?"

Koriand'r bit her lip, then sputtered: "A prison cell. Much like the one that was used to contain myself and-"

"Oh..." Stargirl blinked, then blinked harder. "**OH**... ...Oh jeez..." She bit her lip, glanced at the metal, swallowed a lump down her throat, and glanced back at Starfire. "L-Look, Starfire... ...Odds are it just _looks_ like it. And even still—The actual _shell_ of the warship is still at the bottom of the Bay. It's not like we just unearthed the actual place where-"

"None of that matters, friend Courtney..." Starfire murmured in a low voice. Her arms began to buckle a little, as if she was losing her super strength with each shuddering breath. "... ... ...three of your earth months ago, I was imprisoned in metal walls not unlike this one I am so flimsily holding in my grasp as we speak. It is by the grace of X'hal that I can afford to stand here and recollect it without suffering the physical wounds of my previous misfortunes... ... ...and... ...a-and yet... ..." She clenched her teeth, rolled her eyes back, and dropped the slab—limply, _gently_ this time. _Cl-Clang!_

Stargirl held the scanner behind her back and shifted nervously where she stood, facing Starfire, waiting, waiting...

The alien girl ran two hands through her crimson threads, sighed, then looked Courtney's way with a pair of dim, thin eyes. She murmured—barely above a whisper: "Everyone here—Everyone of us is so _adamant_ about pursuing this Underworld, of appeasing this _Commissioner Kneehouse_, of saving this City. It is a noble quest, to say the least, and certifiably all-encompassing in regards to our attention and powers—But, _Courtney, do we do it because we believe we are establishing a promising future?_ Or are we doing it _because we wish to make up for the past?"_

Stargirl took a deep, anxious breath. "I... ..." She scratched the back of her neck, averting from Starfire's gaze. "I-I..."

"Courtney, please do look at me..."

Stargirl reluctantly did so. The sight that beheld her forced a lump in her throat.

Koriand'r looked like she had just shot her own dog. Her lips quivered: "Am I the only one? Am I the only one amongst us who... ... ...wh-who still _remembers?_ Who still _regrets?_ Who still _suffers_ to _recollect_ what _**he** did?"_

"Oh Kory..."

"I do not understand hao you all _hide it so_..." She deflated. A green tear streamed down her cheek. Two. "Furthermore..." She shuddered, rubbed a wrist across her face, shriveled. "...I do not understand _why_..."

"Kory, come here..." Stargirl exhaled and scooped Starfire into a deep embrace. The alien girl hugged her back, but this time limply, falling into the crux of Stargirl's weight and support. Sobbing. The blonde stroked the back of the girl's shoulder, glancing momentarily at the eyes of the other four—all whom were making a great effort to _not_ look in their direction. "I wish I could explain it. I guess...well... ... ...we've all gone through the motions. And nao... ...nao we want to be strong, and we are strong by moving as quickly, as determinedly as we can-"

"B-But without looking b-back...?" Kory hiccuped, her head hung deathily over the Star Spangled Kid's shoulder as she sniffed, choked, and sputtered: "W-Without remembering what he went through? What h-he did for us? His f-f-face...?"

"Of **course**we remember all of that!" Stargirl clutched Kory's shoulders and held her in front of her. "Look at me, Kory..."

Kory shuddered. Two wet eyes, streaming green, limply raised to meet Courtney's.

The girl smiled gently. "You don't think we **know** that we owe him everything? What we're doing here is as much for him as it is for the City. If some sense of reason can come from this whole mess—this tragedy—and if we can use it to keep thousands upon thousands of people from being exploited by an evil, hidden Underworld—Well, don't you think that's taking the gift of life he gave us and making an even better _use_ of it?"

Kory sniffed. She glanced aside at the distant shadows of Robin, Raven...the rest. "But it would be so m-much more s-satisfying to know... ...to **know** that the others feel the same as I do." She furrowed her brow in a sudden resentment. "That they were not so insistent on the human mechanism of _hiding_ their emotions beneath layers of pretense and subterfuge..."

"Is that _really_ the way you see it, Star?" Courtney blinked. She squeezed the alien girl's shoulders. "You've got the _empathic_ sensitivity bequeathed you by your Goddess, right? Can't you _feel_ the gap in our **hearts** left by his absence? Can't you feel the weight we carry—The responsibility-?"

"'Responsibility'...?" Koriand'r leaned forward, eyes squinting. "It is such an abstract thing for you humans to _mourn_... ... For me, for my people, Courtney—it is all blood. It is all tears. It has to come to the surface, in moans more than words." She leaned forward with melting emphasis. "We never knew where _he came from_, Courtney. We never even _knew his name..._"

"... ... ..." Courtney's eyes were sad. But she couldn't for the life of her summon the same tears that Koriand'r could so naturally. The alien girl was right. The dam was built too tight. Before she could summon the courage to attempt another reply...

A chime alighted the air, carried on the stream of every communicator hanging off every superhero's side. Half a dozen heads glanced amongst each other. Finally, Beast Boy gluttered:

"Okai. Did we all order a separate party at Red Lobster or what?"

"_Vegetarians should stick to vegetarian jokes."_

"Go bang your chakra stone against some prison bars, Raven."

_"Meh."_

Cyborg was already flipping his communicator open with a Star Trek sound, bringing up a flickering map of the City, and gnashing teeth. "Heh...Friggin' timing." He slapped the thing shut and cackled towards the rest of his team. "Trouble! South of Downtown! We gotta move!"

"Aww! But I was gonna go buy a shiv at the gift shop-"

"NAO!"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**Pfttoooooooooo!**_ The miniature rocket propelled grenade sailed across the length of a flickering/flashing dance hall. A dozen young citizens shrieked, gasped, and dove out of the way as the explosive projectile sailed into a concrete pillar and engulfed part of the second level in a plume of fire. **_PHWOOOMB!_**

The entire discotheque shook and rumbled. A glittering ball fell off from its hinges and shattered onto the dance floor in a sea of shimmering bits. As the thundering chaos continued, three young cretins in black leather, bomber jackets, and goggled' pilots caps soared overhead on throttling jetpacks. One of them perched on a DJ's Turntable, reloaded his rpg-launcher, and shouted heinously over the throbbing beats of the unchecked music speakers.

"Fun time is over, you namby-pambies! I declare this roost vacant from here on out! You hear me? Grand Wing Hector doesn't want any of ya fruitcakes hanging around here no longer!" He kicked the turntable over with a shower of sparks and aimed his RPG-launcher towards the far side of the discotheque where terrorized citizens continued fleeing, stampeding to get out of sight. "The night belongs to the Buzzards! So go home, eat your porridge, change your nappies, and bob's your uncle!"

_**Pftoooooooooo—KAPOW!**_

The next rocket plowed into a portion of the ceiling, sending chunks of plaster and concrete waterfalling around the front atrium. Two people screamed and clutched to each other as the deathly wave of debris fell over them—_**SWOOOOSH!**_ Stargirl slid on the ground like a baseball player, shoved into them with the weight of her cosmic rod, and pushed them safely out of the way. They scampered off—panting—as she scrunched over behind a shielding pillar and huddled breathlessly besides a frowning Cyborg, his neck craned towards the three jetpacking perpetrators.

"Who in the heck are these guys?" The Star Spangled Kid breathlessly quacked.

"Buzzard Gang..." Cyborg grunted. "Just our friggin' luck." _CL-CL-CLAKKA!_ He turned his fist into a sonic cannon. "We don't have time for this..."

"Uhm..." Stargirl sweatdropped. "You sure you wanna blast them? I don't think everyone is out of the dance hall yet..."

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"At least can we try to talk them into standing down? This place looks and feels liable to collapse down on us at any second-"

"Stargirl..." Cyborg began to grumble.

"_I mean it, ya bloody sods! I'll burn each of ya to a crisp! Buzzard Gang Forever!_" _**P-POWW!**_ A nearby pillow shook from a well placed grenade.

A green penguin slid over on its belly, morphed into a leaping frog, and materialized into a elf that squatted next to Cyborg and Stargirl. "Whew! I dun get what's stuck up these dudes' tea-holes! I mean, the DJ was playing Robbie Williams! Nobody tries to bomb Robbie Williams!"

"Beast Boy!" Stargirl gasped. "Where are the others?"

"Hao should I know?" He frowned. "I lost track of them as soon as we jumped into the pyrotechnic rendition of _'Steppin' Time'_..."

_**K-KAPOW!**_ Another explosion rocked, this time just a few feet away.

"ACKIES!" Beast Boy leapt and got his octopus limbs entangled with Stargirl.

"Beast B-Boyyyyy!" The blonde struggled, all but walloping him with the cosmic rod.

"I've had it..." Cyborg growled, spun around from behind the pillar, and aimed his sonic cannon up at the three bogeys. "Hey! Sky limeys! I knight thee Sir Lames-a-lot!"

"Hah!" 'Grand Wing Hector' sneered down at the half-android. "Well, if it ain't Jump City's favorite post box—_BLOODY HELL-"_ He took the full brunt of a billowing wave of deady decibels. _**KRAKOWW!**_ He slammed against a concrete pylon and fell down hard through a series of speakers. **_CRUNCH!_**

"Bleed in your own Hell. Punk." Cyborg sneered. His human eye wandered up, reflecting the other two figures on jetpacks. "And don't you even think about-"

_**PFTOOOO!**_

_**PFT-TOOOOO!**_ Two missiles sailed down at him.

"Whoah dayum!" Cyborg ran, dove, and slid out of the way—_**KAPOWWW!**_

The entire dance hall shook. A straggler or two ran for cover. Stargirl stumbled, twirled, finally threw a flinching green mollusk off of her and spiraled in time to aim a cosmic rod at the hovering pair. "Okay! I don't know who you are—But you need a flying permit to use those things on your shoulders!"

"And just where's your bloomin' permit, blondie?" One of them snickered from under his leather pilot's cap.

She blinked. "Uhm... ..." She frowned. "Okai, it wasn't my best taunt. Just... ..." She glowed the cosmic rod threatening. "J-Just shut up and go to jail or something!"

_CL-CLAK!_ Both of them aimed shotguns down at the girl. "You hesitate too long to fire, ya yellow bellied spandex queen!"

Stargirl bit her lip. Then—from over her shoulder-

"_But **I will not** hesitate."_ **SWOOOSH!** Starfire soared up at the two in a burning red streak.

"Hah! And who are you to boast—MOTHER OF MERCY-" _**PLOWWW!**_ Koriand'r sailed violently into the two, slamming them against a wall. Two live grenades fell loosely from their rattling forms and littered the floor below. Stargirl barely had time to leap out of the way-

_**KABLAAAAM!**_ Fire and debris danced around. One poor soul, hiding behind a potted plant, shrieked and tried in vain to crawl out from the falling bits of the building all around him.

_Swooosh!_ Robin swung in and hooked two arms around the young man's shoulders. "Don't panic! Follow me! I'll show you the exit-"

"Oh thank gawd!" The teenager engulfed Robin in a trembling hug. "Someone's come to save me!"

Robin gritted his teeth, struggling to disentangle himself from the person's grasp. "Yes—_Yes_-**I know**. Nao lemme just-"

"I was s-so scared! And y-you came for me!"

"Sir-"

"I thought I was gonna die-"

"SIR! The ceiling! We need to—Oh screw it." Robin flung the yelping man over his shoulder and dove just in the nick of time—_**CRASSSH!**_ A mountain of debris flattened the space in the floor where they had just been entangled.

Beast Boy sat up, dizzily stroking his fuzzy head and glancing about the smoke and debris. He heard the violent sounds of impacting fists and starbolts overhead, looked above, and winced in time to jump to his side and avoid a collapsing naked jet pack. _**B-BOOM!**_ A descending scream, and the elf morphed in time to grab a falling, flailing Buzzard Gang member with gorilla arms. He shrunk back into his lithe elvin-ness, holding the trembling perpetrator from behind.

"You alive, dude?"

"She's a murderous psychopath!" The man trembled. "What's the alien bitch doing to my mate?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say Starfire was putting him into a sharpshooter in midair. But she's _learning_. His limbs will stay in their sockets... ..._Maybe_."

"Oh, bless you for saving me from her!"

"Anytime." Beast Boy smiled. "Hey guess what time is it?"

"... ... ...What?"

"It's the Concussion Show! Starring **YOU**!" And the elf growled, viciously german-suplexing the gang member into the dance floor beneath them. _**WHAM!**_ He kick-jumped up off the floor and stood over the dazed thug's body, brushing himself off. "And who says America doesn't have a health care system?"

_**CRASSH!**_

Beast Boy tumbled to the floor as the speakers beside him exploded. Sneering, bleeding from the lip, Grand Wing Hector marched out and produced two uzis from his leg'd holsters.

"You stupid... ...meddling... ...street urchins... ..." He sneered, spat out a crimson tooth, and aimed both guns while Cyborg, Stargirl, and Beast Boy stood in a fierce line across the ravaged floor. "I went arse-over-elbow to make my strike on this pathetic excuse for a party hovel, and what do I get? A bunch of super-wankers with nothing better to do than piss all over my parade!"

"_AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-!" **THUNK!**_ The other Buzzard Gang-er was dropped through a collapsing table. Starfire touched down beside her three partners. "What in X'hal's name is he going on about?"

"Don't kiss him, Starfire." Beast Boy muttered aside. "I couldn't live with myself if you learned to speak 'chimney-sweep'."

"I thought your boss was told that he and his jerkface thugs weren't allowed in Jump City anymore!" Cyborg scowled.

"Horses for courses." Hector sneered, staring down the sights of his semi-automatics. "The day I leave Jump City is the day your dear old mum forgives herself for giving birth to a garbage can."

Stargirl hissed. _"Watch it, buddy-"_

"Yeah, alright." _**CLAK-CLAK-CLAK!**_ Cyborg hissed and aimed his sonic cannon back at the figure. "Somehao I don't think the JCPD will mind if they have to sweep up after your skull."

"_Cyborg-"_

"Bring it, ya muffler-shaggin' titanium tyke-"

**SWOOSH!**Raven suddenly appeared in a portal amidst the Mexican standoff. She glanced boredly at half the crowd. "Sorry I'm late. Got my robe stuck in a squirrel's nest in the Western District. What's going on here?" She gazed oozily over the flames and debris. "Oh. These people."

"Holy conkers!" Hector suddenly cowered from the sight of her. His eyes bugged out from under his leather cap. "It's y-you...!"

A limp figure clamored out of the smashed contents of a table, saw Raven, and likewise turned as pale as his partner. "Oh, screw me gently with an airplane propellor! Not _**her-!"**_

"... ... ..." Raven stared back.

"Uhhhh..." Beast Boy squinted. "Raven, do you know the RAF fan club personally, or-"

_Cl-Clak!_ Hector tossed his jetpack onto the floor, slumped to his knees, and strung his hands up behind the back of his head. "Here I am! I am cooperating—See? Please, arrest me whenever you wish!"

"Y-Y-Yes!" The other skidded across the floor, disposed of his weapons in a shower of metal, and knelt down beside his boss. "Throw us both in the yard! We're sorry! We won't fight anymore! Just don't hand us over to **her**!"

"... ..." Cyborg blinked. "Well, alright."

"You mean I must not impact them with my fists?" Koriand'r blinked.

Stargirl leaned on her cosmic rod, scratching her head. "As much as I'd like to watch that, Kory, I'm guessing not."

Robin stumbled in, brushing himself off and smoothing the wrinkles in his cape.

"Great timing, Robin..." Cyborg sighed and motioned sleepily towards the two figures. "Cuff 'em, will ya?"

"Yeah, whatever." The Boy Wonder groaned and sauntered over, pulling the appropriate tools out from his utility belt. "Seems to be my part time job, today."

"Love ya too, bird boy..." Cyborg rubbed his head and stomped over the debris to exit out the front. "... ...waste of an evening, I swear."

"Hao is ridding a cultural recreation center of evil-doers a waste of nightfall?" Koriand'r asked.

"_Save it, Kory. I'm not in the mood."_

The alien girl pouted, arms folded. "Hmmph. Might I be so brave to venture saying that his operating system is in great need of a belated upgrade?"

"Whoahhh!" Beast Boy grinned wide and pointed at the Tamaranian. "Did Star just make a Windows joke?"

"I've no clue..." Stargirl sighed, pocketing away her retracted cosmic rod. "I have an iMac."

"Well, at least there's hope for _one_ of us."

"Yeah..." Stargirl stared at the distant, floating sight of Raven. The dark girl hovered in a lone, purple aura...and retreated further into the shadows, and her secrets. "... .. ..." The Star Spangled Kid turned and walked outside.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Later, outside the dance hall, a crowd had formed—Actually _two_ crowds. One crowd was to be expected: a cluster of emergency crews, police squads, firetrucks, and various city workers clearing debris away while the three Buzzard Gang members were hauled off into a prison truck. Cyborg hung out in the thick of this crowd, talking with one police officer, then another—surveying the damage and relaying testimony of the past battle.

The second crowd stood behind a yellow stretch of police tape. Onlookers, pedestrians, citizens—many of which were those who had fled the attacked dance hall—stood in a steady throng of curiously craning heads, eyeing the scene...but that's not all they were eyeing.

Stargirl, Starfire, and Beast Boy were perched on a restaurant's second-story balcony above the scene, glancing at the police squads and rescue workers, waiting, waiting, waiting for Victor's next command, or else an excuse to leave the scene and retire. They were not outside the penumbra of observation, haoever, and many a whoop and cry and cheer flew their way from the excitedly curious crowd that had gathered below.

Beast Boy smirked. He glanced at the two girls alongside them. "Whaddya think of this, huh? We're barely here for a week and already we've got fans."

"Fanatics?" Koriand'r blinked. "I am certain they are merely here to observe and not to pay respects. We are more of an odd sight than a welcome one, I would surmise."

"Nao Star, that doesn't sound like you." Beast Boy frowned. "Where's the glorious self-esteem and pride of your people? You're sexy and you're badass and you're awesome—and I'm sure the people in this City are catching on. I mean, you can't have enough cameras with people who know the right stuff to point them at!"

_FLASH!_

"See?" The elf beamed and gestured down towards a random girl wearing a brown beret below them. "**Hey! That'll be ten dollars!"**

Stargirl giggled. "I'm not sure you should be _encouraging_ publicity just **yet**, Garfield. Tonight hasn't exactly been our most shining moment."

"Why wouldn't it be?" Beast Boy cackled. "Nobody got hurt! We managed to keep _most_ of the dance hall in one piece! And instead of a bloody-tooth-and-nail fight with the boss of that buzzard posse, we got Raven to show up her creepy head and end it all in one fatal eyelash flicker! That's a night well done, if you ask me!"

"Indeed..." Koriand'r's eyes narrowed. "...am I the only one who is perplexed as to the reason for the villains' sudden and unexpected submission upon the sight of Raven's appearance?"

"I know, right?" Stargirl tucked a strand of golden hair over her ear. "They must have met _before_ tonight, don'tcha think? I mean, they **had** to!"

"They probably interrupted her during a radio marathon of Rasputina." Beast Boy shrugged. "Raven's got so many bad sides—It's only statistically plausible for any random group of people on the planet to have somehao rubbed her the wrong way. I'm willing to bet that entropy is all Raven's doing. The universe's energy supply is withering away to nothingness simply because the girl is bored of sharing mass with all things that exist."

"_Wooo! Ensign Foon! You rock!"_

"Hey—**H-_Hey_!"** Beast Boy beamed and pumped his fist as he cheered back down at the crowd of onlookers below. "Back at ya, dude! Warp Trek forever!"

"H-Huh?" Koriand'r innocently blinked.

Beast Boy winked. "'Ensign Foon' was my character in Warp Trek. Child Actor, remember? Did I tell or did I tell you?-These people dig us! We're huge in Jump City!"

"I'm not sure I'm ready to be... ...erm..." Stargirl fidgeted. "...'**huge'**."

"Oh go ride your cosmic rod." Beast Boy turned and hollered down at the crowd. "Hey! Everyone! It's Stargirl! Props to the Justice Society of America!"

"_Wooo!"_

"_Yeah!"_

_"You go, girl!"_

"Oh gawd..." Stargirl blushed viciously, running a gloved hand over her reddening face. "_Garfield...Stop it..."_ She tried _not_ to smile. She tried...

"She's got a Cosmic Converter Belt that can protect her from semi trucks going over sixty miles per hour! Then she's got braces that can protect her from an overbite going over ninety!"

"_Hehehe!"_

"_Star Spangled Kid rocks!"_

"Ughhhh..." Stargirl groaned. "I don't know whether to hug you or kill you, Garfield."

"Story of my life, girl." Beast Boy winked, then gestured towards Koriand'r. "Let's here it for Starfire! Tangerine-skinned badass from the cosmos! Kicker of Martian tail and swimmer of solar flares!"

"_But, Garfield, I have never encountered a Martian-"_

"Did I mention she has no belly button!"

"_Hahaha!"_

"_H-Hey! Is it true she can lift an aircraft carrier with her bare hands?"_

"Why? Does an aircraft carrier somewhere owe her lunch money?"

"_Hahahaha!"_

"_Hey, are you guys really here to stay?"_

"_**Please** say you are!"_

"Depends!" Beast Boy beamed down at them. "Y'all got Tivo in this City?"

"_Hah!"_

"_Heheheh-"_

"_Yeah—You show those Buzzard Gang jerks what's for! Take it to their nest and make 'em pay!"_

"We do not incite territorial conflicts!" Starfire frowned. "We merely bring them to a halt-"

Beast Boy raised a hand, silencing her. "Let a true public speaker handle this, Kory."

"Erm..."

Beast Boy folded his arms and smirked slyly down at the young onlookers. "Tell you what! If any of you got the address to the Buzzard Gang's hideout—Staple it to Phaser Labs' front gates! We'll go knocking on their door and ask if they consider themselves happy persons."

"_Yeah?"_

"_And then what?"_

"We march in anyways and kick _their turntables down_ for a change!"

"_Heheheheh—Hell yeah!"_

"_Crash their party—No good jerks!"_

"What do Buzzard Gang people dance to anyway?" Beast Boy shrugged his arms with a grin. "Is it even _possible _to make a techno remix of the Sex Pistols without their DJ choking to death on a nosering?"

"_Heeheehee-!"_

"Life's gotta suck when you wake up in the morning and spend the first waking minutes navigating your own teeth in order to find the toilet!-Oh, I'm sorry, the '_**loo'.**_"

"_Hah! Oh god..."_

"I'm not trying to say they're _illegally British—_I'm pretty sure they fly down the left side of the sky in those jetpacks of theirs. But I heard the reason they're so angry at the world and take it out on Jump City is because France called saying they want a refund for all they got from the Norman Invasion."

"Beast Boy..." Stargirl gently smiled. "...sweetie, why don't you quit while you're ahead...?"

"Or still possess one." Koriand'r added in a drone.

Beast Boy beamed at the Tamaranian. "See? She's getting more spot-on! I'd say it's all worth it, if you ask me..."

"_Hey! Ensign Foon!"_

"**Speakiiiing!"** Beast Boy sing-song'd back towards the crowd below.

"_You rocked when you were with the Doom Patrol too!"_

The elf smirked at the two girls beside him. "Hey, hao do you like that...?" He glanced down again, and loudly uttered: "Were you around in Metropolis when we dropped by to stop a terrorist plot of Monsier Mallah? I swear, I drop-kicked that guy across all of Downtown while Superman was away! Best work I ever got out of my velociraptor toes!"

"_Heh, I bet you did!"_

"_Some of us saw you!"_

"_Yeah, we have your pictures in the clubhouse!"_

"_Why'd you give up the older uniform? It was positively sublime!"_

"Heh—So y'all have a fan club where you hang out?"

"_Heh, you could say that."_

"_Why don't you stop on by? We've got this photo album-"_

"A photo album too, huh?" Beast Boy smirked. "Why, this gets better all the time-"

"Beast Boy..." Stargirl shuffled over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "...you might want to think a little harder about accepting their invitation."

"Oh yeah? They seem like a friendly bunch—_Hey dudes!_ You think that costume was wicked—You should see me in action these days! It's a heck of a loot cooler without the mask!"

"_But the mask was cute!"_

_"Yeah, bring the mask back, Beast Boy!"_

"Huh... ...That's funny..." Beast Boy scratched his head. "I always thought that mask was a little... ... ..._I dunno_..."

"_Oh, come on! Don't be shy!"_

"_After all, what are masks for...? Hehehehe-"_

Beast Boy blinked. "Something isn't computing."

"Sure it is." Stargirl smiled.

"Shut up. You're a Mac user."

Koriand'r gestured with her head. "Has it occurred to you what flavor of a recreational facility we have just rescued from dire straits?"

"Well, sure! Just a dance hall!" Beast Boy shrugged. "This City's got—like—a dozen of discotheques. So, it's only bound to be—**WAIT.**" He blinked, he squinted down at the crowd, at the many pairs of eyes focused on him—the many _masculine_ pairs of eyes, accompanied by masculine arms, and many of them shoulder to shoulder, leaning at slinky forty-give degree angles against each other from just beyond the yellow police tape, replete with sweet grins. "Dah! I take that back! I take that b-back! I don't wanna see no photo album in nobody's clubhouse!"

"_Awwww! Don't harsh us like that, Beast Boy!"_

"_Yeah! Don't be a party pooper-"_

"Let me be concerned about my own pooper—Er, I mean about my own party—Er, I mean-" Beast Boy hopped back, shaking his hands like he had just surfaced from a sea of cooties. "Ick—_Ick!_ _N_-_Nothing wrong with it or what-have-yo_u...just...just—**ICK**!"

Stargirl and Starfire giggled like mad.

"_You looked so hot, kicking butt in Metropolis!"_

"_Glad to have you here, Beast Boy!"_

"_Hehehe—Foon rocks!"_

"_Warp Trek forever!"_

Starfire smiled warmly. "They adore you, Beast Boy. Truly, they do-"

"Uh uh!" Beast Boy shrunk against a wall, away from the sight of the onlookers, gripping his pointed ears tightly. "These things aren't handlebars! I ain't squattin' at their tea party!"

"Oh for heaven's sake..." Stargirl rolled her eyes.

"That is not the form of adoration I speak of." Koriand'r glared.

"The heck do you know?" Beast Boy groaned. "I'm pretty sure when Elton John wrote 'Rocket Man', he wasn't talking about the president of Alpha Centauri."

"What I fail to understand is why there is such a blatant segregation in Terran recreational activity."

"I don't follow..."

Kory nodded her red head towards the battered discotheque. "This is a place for pure fun, sociability, and musically inspired communion. What part does sexual orientation play in painting the place as approachable for _some_ and off-limits for _others_?"

"Hey, God gave us the Rainbow. And if some of us want to paint with all the colors of it—That's just fine..." Garfield shuddered once more. "But...As for me, I'll stick to the canvass I'm used to, thank you very much."

Koriand'r frowned. "It does not make much sense to me. Love is love—Why should one person's choice of expression discourage someone with an entirely different choice from sharing joyful company? Are not wars better waged over boundaries of _hate?"_

"With humans, Kory..." Stargirl spoke. "...you'll be surprised to find hao intrinsically tied _love_ is to _hate_. A lot of people see it like you do—But a lot more aren't willing to _try seeing _to begin with. At least, not any further than they're led to _fear_."

Kory's brow furrowed in thought. She stared over the sights of the emergency crews below, then focused once more on Stargirl. "Courtney, you are a woman of strong convictions—What is it that _**you**_ believe?"

Stargirl felt a sudden drop in her heart, as if she was suddenly cornered. She gulped, then smiled nervously: "I think that people are... ...uhm... ...entitled to live the way that they want to... ...yanno... ... ..erm...w-with their own lives..."

"... ..." There was something about Koriand'r's squinting eyes...

Stargirl blinked at that. "What, don't you believe me?"

"Do you believe **yourself**?"

"... ..." Stargirl bit her lip.

"Well, I'm glad for one thing." Beast Boy murmured. "They didn't get offended over me bragging about kicking Monsier Mallah's butt in Metropolis."

"Why is that?"

"Well, yanno, because... ...he... ... the Brain and the gorilla...they...erm.. ... ... You know what?" Beast Boy rubbed his hands together, suddenly beaming. "We should have a movie night when we get back to the Bunker! Who's for _Coyote Ugly_?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**One can always count on Beast Boy for providing a healthy diversion during a tense evening. I use 'healthy' in a relative fashion. 'Tense', not so relative...But you get the idea. At least, I hope you do...Ugh, lemme start over:**

"**There's a thin line between Beast Boy being annoying and Beast Boy being entertaining. He doesn't annoy me nearly as much as he annoys others, I think. Starfire tolerates him the best—But then again, Starfire could tolerate an entire mob throwing burning torches and pitchforks at her. She's just _that loving_—She and Jesus could really hang out and share stories around the campfire.**

"**Before I joined this team—heck, long before I so much as stumbled upon Jump City during the attack of the Gordanians—I had heard _stories_ about Beast Boy. I had heard of hao he floundered around for a year, bumping into one superhero group after another, looking for someone to adopt him, to induct him, to allow him to contribute his talents to a functioning team of metaphysical do-gooders. I've never considered his metamorphing abilities to be imperfect, lacking, or awkward. He's always struck me as a capable individual—So the fact that so many potential teams seemingly rejected him couldn't have been a matter of competence. I just think nobody had the guts, heart, or courage to _accept_ him.**

"**It's a sad thing, really. He's such a talented individual, and warm hearted too. There's something perpetually adorable about him—at least until the moment that his single-minded machismo chauvinist core briefly surfaces—and then he's adorable once more. It isn't so bad, really. Nobody can really blame him for being a _guy_...heh..."**

"**Yeah, the jokes get a little grating—Okay, make that a _lot grating_, at times. He strikes me as a botched experiment in genetically cloning a family-friendly kids version of Hawkeye Pierce from M*A*S*H, only instead of putting together the bodies of Korean soldiers, Garfield Logan is trying to put together the senseless bits of an absurd lifestyle.**

"**We're all spandex-wearing, birdarang toting, cosmic rod swinging, starbolt tossing, soul-self bending, sonic cannon aiming teenagers pretending to be the best thing in law enforcement, tackling giant alien lizards and british stereotypes on jetpacks.**

"**Is it a crime for an occasional goofball to spawn forth from such a cockeyed pool—And sometimes adorably so? I certainly don't condemn that. Not in the least. And, sure, maybe I'll giggle a little over it...or more than a little. Just maybe."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

An hour later, the emergency crews started clearing away. The night was thinning—the stars were rotating—and everything was dwindling down to a deflated yawn of anticlimax.

Or at least Courtney was—yawning, that is. She strolled across the street, past exiting squad cars, and used her cosmic rod as a cane as she strolled towards where she last saw Cyborg. Along the way, she stumbled upon Robin—walking in the opposite direction.

"Hey Robin..." She woke herself long enough to smirk. "...it's been long enough. I thought I might find out what Cyborg's up to. Don't we still have to finish making the scans at North Prison?"

"Not anymore..." Robin uttered in a cold breath. He was duller than sleep, stiller than death. He drifted past her like an upright coffin. "Not nao. Not after tonight."

"Okaaaaaaaay..." Courtney blinked. "Still, I gotta talk to Cyborg. Tomorrow's Sunday morning, and, yanno...-"

"You might want to wait on that."

"But it's late-"

"Stargirl." Robin simply said. He turned towards her. He stared. His eyemask was just as stony silent and still as the rest of his body. Eight seconds of heartless quiet, tense as a coiled rattlesnake, and he droned: "Please. Don't." And he walked on.

"... ... ..." Courtney squinted after his form as he took off on a grappling hook towards the rooftop. "What in the McFuzz was that about...?" She murmured breathily to herself.

And then she heard them—The voices. The loud voices, from just around the corner, shaking—gradually booming as she crept her curious way closer around a flank of police vans and found him, and them: Cyborg and Commissioner Kneehouse, both orbiting a warbling air of shouting noises between their parabolic immensities.

"And I'm telling you!" Kneehouse spat. "You're wasting your time! When you and your team were off chasing radioactive shadows at North Prison, real shit was hitting the fan here! If you're gonna stick around to protect our City, then _protect our City!_ Stop running off on fruitless campaigns that nobody in their sane mind would give a crap about!"

"Commissioner, we hadn't even _left City limits!"_ Victor Stone barked back. He pointed at the crumbled front of the discotheque. "As soon as we got word of the assault here—We arrived in a blink! I wanna see your squad cars make it in nearly half the time that we did! So don't go off on some baseless tirade that we've been distracted when we ain't been!"

"And what if it's a hostage situation next time?" Kneehouse frowned, her geometrically rigid frame leaning icily against a squad car, almost pushing two of its wheels up from the weight of her. "Those precious few seconds wasted in relocating yourself from across Town could mean death for a victim at gunpoint. I thought you had a routine planned, Mr. Stone—a series of 'beats' that you and your team would split up and watch over, spread throughout the City?"

"Commissioner—Just what are you trying to prove?" Victor folded his arms, frowning. "Cuz you're really dayum bent on proving _something—_if else just hao to get my oily blood to boil!"

"The only thing I'm _bent on_ is proving to myself that there's a reason why I volunteered to play along with your club of young superheroes to begin with! I promised the City officials that I would tolerate your presence here as a supportive police force—Not some form of an alternative investigative agency!"

"Commissioner—We can protect this City as it is for all we're good for, but that's not all that my team's here to do! There are problems here in these streets and _beneath_ them! There're gangs running amok—Gangs that you and your people have had your hands full of! But it doesn't always have to be this way! There's a monstrous Underworld pulling the strings of all the killers, gang bangers, and riff raff of this Town and if we can just follow the trail to the _source_ instead of stalking around and maintaning the status quo-"

"Mr. Stone, even if you could find a smoking gun—Do you really _really_ think I'm prepared to just sit back and let you start a war in my very own neighborhood?" She frowned two burning suns straight at his forehead. "Even if the Underworld exists—There's no way in Hell that six ordinary teenagers with extraordinary talents can somehao magically take it down in one fatal swoop-"

"Commissioner, you're not even bothering to _hear me out!"_ Cyborg gestured wildly. "Just **listen**! Open your heart, open your mind, and **listen**! But I can't even get a word in! I swear, you've been against us from the start! If we're to do anything to save this City from an endless spiral of crime and exploitation, we gotta work on an investigation—not just preservation! Don't you see what my team is here to **do**?"

"Just the same that any team has done..." Kneehouse sneered. "...perpetuated a curse of cause and effects that never had to be to begin with. You think the Buzzard Gang people attacked this place because they were simply feeling homophobic and drunk? No—a line's been drawn in the sand—A bloody line! And the Buzzard Gang didn't start it—_Your team did!_" She pointed.

Stargirl stepped in. "That's not true!"

Cyborg's red eye glossed over and fell on her. "Oh lord. Stargirl, don't-"

"Who's this?" Kneehouse made a face, like a wounded gremlin. "Lady, we're having a serious talk. Don't come barging in—"

"The Buzzard Gang have been in Jump City, causing havok long before we ever arrived!" Stargirl frowned, clutching the cosmic rod. "And if you look at the statistics that are available right in your own Police Department—You'll find that there have been less attacks by them on the general populace ever since we've made a foothold!"

"Bold talk for a bold **idiot**." Kneehouse's booming voice sent vibrations through the Star Spangled Kid's boots as she frowned over. "And just what happened tonight, princess? Was that unmitigated attack by the Buzzard Gang on Jump City citizens another way of the Buzzard Gang _retreating from metahumans?"_

"The only reason nobody is dead today is because you had Cyborg and his team here to stop them!" Stargirl frowned back. "You should thank him that he showed up with the rest of us to begin with, or else you and your police force would have had a _real mess_ on your hands."

"Courtney..." Cyborg droningly interjected. "That's enough-"

"Lady, the only _real mess_ I've ever had to deal with is all because of Cyborg and you super-brats." Kneehouse said, something deep and festering within her earthen frown vaguely resembling a smirk. "I never asked for a giant alien warship to land in the Bay. Do you know hao many months I spent working with the coast guard, dredging extraterrestrial shit from the Ocean, cleaning up for all the crap you dumped in our City's lap before running off towards god knows where like the _supposed heroes you are?"_

"But-"

"Hell—Half of the time Stone's team has been here in this City, you've all been fighting back criminals _using _the same intergalactic junk that the redheaded alien bimbo kited to our hapless planet to begin with! The only heroism you've been practicing is a lame excuse to clean up a mess you're already too late to claim responsibility for! And who gets to deal with all the legal snot? Certainly not a bunch of steel-skulled teenagers with a penchant for blowing gas stations up and wrecking dance halls! No, of course, it's me who has to pick up the slack! Story of my mother-feakin' life."

"Yeah, b-but...we..." Stargirl stammered.

"So **thank you**, Star Spangled Kid, for enlightening me with your oh-so-righteous experience from working with the Junkyard Society of America or whatever-the-shit you high-and-mighty demigods call yourself from your daydreamy flights in the clouds. But know this..." Kneehouse pointed at her granite chest. "I run the streets here, and I hold sway over what our City does or does not do to maintain order." She swiveled icily and jabbed a finger Cyborg's way. "And you—If you can't make use of your worthless hides and stay **put** for once, and not chasing pipe dreams, then I don't see why I should bother giving you kids a chance to prove yourselves. I swear to God, you're going to tear this place apart looking for this putrid 'Underworld' crap. Be a man for once, Cyborg, and not half of one; admit that your team blew it from the start, and be adult enough to stick around and take care of what's on the surface of this City."

"But Commissioner-" He sighed.

"End of conversation." She opened a door to her squad car and gave Stargirl one lasting glare. "Next time, put a leesh on your mutts. I'm not in the mood for these barking games."

Stone's fist clenched. He stood silently as she pulled off in the squad car—a slight screeching to the tires—and the two superheroes stood in an air of pallid silence.

"... ... ..." Stargirl clutched to the rod she was leaning to. Her mask'd eyes watched the distant, cruising car in perpetual exit. She could still feel her heart pounding inside her uniform'd chest. "Well, at least I know nao why Decker calls her 'Cinderblock'. She doesn't like to budge, does she-?"

"**Dammit**, Courtney!" Cyborg was suddenly reeling over her, snarling. "**What** in the **Hell** was that?"

She flinched away from him, blue eyes twitching. "I-I..." She swallowed dryly and squeaked: "S-Someone had to st-stand up for you... ...For the team. She was-"

"You call that **standing up**?" He growled. "Goddammit, girl! Don't you know when to leave well enough alone? She was chewing me out from the start—There was no way out of it! You only added fuel to the fire!"

"Sh-She doesn't have any _faith_ in our team, V-Vic!" Courtney briefly frowned back. "Why do you let her speak to you like that!"

"Because **some of us** have to think for the team and be tactful, Courtney! Some of us can't **afford** to call out the bitch on her own bullshit! And—nngh...**DAMN IT!**" Victor spun and kicked a chunk of concrete out of a nearby curb, making Stargirl jump-and-tremble. "Just..._Damn it!"_ His fists clenched. He heaved...heaved... ...and deflatedly sighed.

"... ... ..." Stargirl clung to the rod behind him, her eyes towards the asphalt, trying to weather the deep lump forming in her throat.

"... ...nnngh... ...S-Sorry, Courtney. Just..." He waved a limp hand towards her without looking. "... ...Just go home. Grab a night cap. I'll sort it all out on my own. It's what I'm used to...anyways..."

"Cyborg..." Stargirl reached a gloved hand out towards his retreating figure. "**Vic**. It's so much to handle, so much to prove. You don't have to be alone."

"Believe me. I already am." He throated back, shuffling down the street. "**Go home**."

Courtney stood there for a few minutes, sarcophagus'd in silence. Her vision blurred; she lifted her facemask briefly enough to wipe her moist eyes with a sleeve, sighed, and soared off via the cosmic rod.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 11th, 2004)**

Again, the hymn was 'Be Thou My Vision'. Courtney stood to the same lyrics to the same song in the same gathering place she had been in a week previous. The congregation of Jump City Summit Church was just as gray and stone solid as it had been a week previous. The assistant pastor conducted the melodic tongues of the grand body of followers. Pastor Yeager hovered twitchingly along the flanks of the altar.

When the song ended and everyone sat in a breathless shuffle, Courtney found herself squatting in the same blouse and skirt she was wearing a week before. But this time—as the Pastor stepped up and the sermon began, she found her eyes glued to the back of the pew in front of her. Even as the first relevant Bible passage was quoted, she couldn't summon the strength to look elsewhere.

A dry, granite-gray glaze of a look...like the entire Ocean absorbed into a single pebble, dropped from an incredible...incredible height...

Courtney couldn't help it, and certainly not herself. She sighed.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

An infinity passed, and the congregation was shuffling out of the Jump City Summit Cathedral in the West Distict. Courtney wandered aimlessly down the steps, eyes glued to her feet, briefly encumbered by a handful of confusing words she may or may not have heard from the sermon over the last two stuttering hours. Something about Job—again. Seven full days, and Job was still suffering...still in rags and ashes.

A voice lilted through the air—Courtney pretended not to hear it long before she realized she was pretending. She turned around and constructed a smile, more to convince herself, as Ruth Beltram waddled her way over, along with Carl.

"-glad to see you made it back, child!" The stout promontory of an old woman grinned squintingly. "My, seeing you for a second week in a row really does bring a joy to my heart."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Ms. Beltram." Courtney said, the wind blowing mercilessly at her blonde strands. She didn't bother to straighten them. "It's always good to have a safe constant in one's life."

"Believe me, in my years, I understand that more than ever. But someone your age and beauty shouldn't be so quick to settle yet..." She smiled. "Why, if I could still move as energetically as you, I would never stay in one place."

"I think we have the Sabbath to make us do just that, though." Courtney shrugged. "The best way to humble yourself is to drop anchor, once in a while." Her voice lingered at the crest of a breathless wave. She wasn't entirely sure if she believed herself. Something about the City looked ominous—over the treetops, over the roofs of the edge of the Central District. Somewhere, a wave of cinderblocks threaten to topple over and crush her flesh and metal toes where she stood. The blonde fidgeted, but hid it. "I'm sorry I didn't sit next to you and Mr. Beltram. I was... ...k-kinda late this morning."

"A sin of youth that's easily forgiveable." Ruth beamed. "Back in my college years, I was lucky enough to make it to my professor's lectures with my slippers on!"

Carl murmured something in an indiscernible tongue.

Ruth henpecked him in the jugular: "So what if I became a homemaker? I still wanted to study Freud!" She rolled her eyes and smirked Courtney's way. "Silly bearded man thought that sons loved their mothers too much. What's the shame in that?"

"Eheheh..." Courtney sighed. "S-Sorry if my sense of humor is a little dull right nao. I didn't get much sleep last night. There was this... ...this n-night club...and-"

"Oh! You mean the riotious gang war that the young superheroes fought off?" Ruth remarked. "The 'Bluebird Gang' or whatnot? I read about it in the newspaper this morning—Were you there?"

Courtney blinked. She ran a hand over her bangs and murmured: "Er...y-yeah. I was...uhm...sl-sleeping in an apartment building two rows down and...uhm...C-Couldn't get a wink of shuteye, if yanno what I mean..."

Carl muttered something else.

Ruth meowed: "'Bluebird Gang'... 'Buzzard Gang'... ... What's the difference? Ruffians are ruffians. It's a good thing that those superheroes stopped them before they could do any real damage!"

"Yeah..." Courtney tyredly smiled. "It is a good thing..."

Ruth shook her head sadly. "Still, it's such a shame..."

Courtney blinked. "What is?"

"All that effort to save _lives—_When their _souls_ are what's in danger."

"Uhm...Whose souls?"

"Why—Those sodomists, of course!" Ruth smiled pleasantly, then tsk'd-tsk'd: "After all the superheroes did to save their godless lives, you think they'd wisen up and close that place of sin down! But, if murderers on rocket packs can't put the fear of God in you—Then what can? Such a shame..."

Courtney silently stared at Ruth, through her, she eventually blinked and uttered: "Uhm... ...Well...I-I'm sure they were grateful to... ...uhm...t-to not have been killed so horribly. Maybe they'll eventually... ..._f-find God_..."

"Hell burns hot enough as it is. Maybe that's what brought the superheroes to our Jump City?" Ruth squintingly grinned. "If enough young people get a second chance to live, maybe they'll change their ways and tread the right path!"

"And...uhm..." Courtney blinked, trying her exhausted best to stand up straight, to think aloud, clearly: "...Wh-What of the murderers?"

"Hmmm?"

"The Buzzard Gang. The people who attacked the dance hall—Who attacked to _kill—_They'll get a second chance as well, right, nao that they're in prison?"

"Oh, them too..." Ruth chuckled. Carl muttered something, and she nodded in agreement. "Hee-Hee...Exactly. God works in mysterious ways—Doesn't he? I swear—sinners these days are exposed to so much conviction, what excuse do they have on Judgment Day?"

"... ... ...right... ...No excuse whatsoever..." Courtney repeated to herself. The voice sounded like a faded casette player. Her eyes lingered once more on the looming immensity of a strange City before her, yet so far away.

"But, truly, darling—You look _famished!_ Would you be so kind to grace us with your presence again at brunch? We so did enjoy having you last time..." Ruth gestured in the general direction of some mysterious chinese buffet hidden somewhere.

"Oh, thank you. Really—Thanks...But... ...erhm..." Courtney smiled as genuinely as she could. "I'm going to have to pass on that."

"Awww... ...Well that is most unfortunate. But I'm sure you have your reasons, child."

"Yeah...I'm okay. I just..." She sighed. "...I f-feel real sick to my stomach." Courtney said.

It was the most honest thing she had uttered all morning.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**I can almost pinpoint the exact time and place when it happened—when it all fell around me, like an iron curtain, engulfing me—This bitter pill that the City so suddenly swallowed, that it covered me in goosebumps—and not the _good _kind either, mind you.**

"**I have long been a religious person, a child of God, and I have no plans to ever stop being so. From what you've told me in the past, I gather you're of a completely different crowd, quoting Marxist and his 'opiate of the masses' zinger, or what have you. And if that works for you, then good. It's just not my thang, but that's not for me to judge.**

"**Because if there's anything I'm really tyred of doing, it's feeling like I have to think for others. I thought I could think for Kneehouse—and look what it got me. I want to think for Koriand'r, but for all of my sympathy and compassion, there is nothing I can do to really help her out of her sorrowful rut. I'm not sure there's really anything anyone can do to help Kory. And don't get me started on Raven—trying to think for her is a crime punishable by death.**

"**But, yes, everything started to fall around me, and even nao—as I write this letter—I feel those same iron walls flanking my sides. The City is a lot darker than it used to be, and I thought I've seen the ugliest things this place has to offer. But there's a different kind of ugliness about, something in the shadows, something that suffers because it cannot be seen. And the harder we look for answers, the deeper it hides. I'm supposed to be here to help people in this City, and hao can one do that when you feel helpless? And blind?**

"**All I know is, Victor feels that he's alone in his quest to save this place—And with each passing day, I have no choice but to believe in him. It creates a distance—a wedge between us—that shouldn't have to be there when it comes to friends, co-workers even.**

"**And what's worse—or perhaps what's best—is that I can't stay in one place anymore. Horrible things stew in isolation. And so it is a divine irony that I can't bother myself to go to the House of God to hear His Words. If God's to speak to me anywhere, it's out on the beat, on the move, hovering over these empty streets that I'm helpless to help—that perhaps even He is helpless to help, and maybe that's the way it's always been.**

"**And, in another bitter pill, that makes me feel closer to God than I've ever been before."**


	8. Fellowship part 4 final

Courtney lingered—stuck in mid penstroke—alone on her bed in the deep gut of Phaser Labs' Bunker. Her eyes gazed across the ceiling as she took a deep, deep breath—inhaling and exhaling slowly, as if testing the extent to which she still felt empty inside. Pinballing down a wall of pinhook'd memories, her gaze fell down towards her left stub of an ankle, resting against the covers—a perpetual monument to loss and recovery, something for her to forever be proud and remorseful of.

A tapping sound—and she soon realized that a deep and surmounting impatience was bubbling up from her center and manifesting itself in her fingers, rhythmically knocking the pen along the upper edge of her pile of stationary.

Gulping down any remaining lumps in her throat, the girl shifted her weight—sat up straight in bed—and stroked the pen along, continuing the written recollection:

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**The team had passed through some invisible veil—You could _feel_ it. It was gray and pallid on the other side, a great void of hope. And why did it have to be that way? We were in the City—doing great and marvelous things. We were saving people, making the streets safe and safer. Bit by bit, with great expertise and dedication, we were bringing light to Jump City—a light it hadn't had a chance to bask in for longer than any of us could guess. And yet, for all of our efforts, we were too obscured by our own doubts and misgivings to enjoy that very same light ourselves.**

"**If anything, it just goes to show what difference it makes to actually be _appreciated_ for your actions. I'm sure the people in the streets—the citizens and the common public appreciated us. But we were so busy with tracking down the Underworld, with our tyred eyes fixated on one golden mean, that we didn't have time to chat with our rescuees, to hear from the Jump City populace just hao much they loved us.**

"**We only cared—we only _obsessed_ over what the JCPD said about us, or more specifically what Commissioner Kneehouse said about us. Our entire effort hinged upon her humble respect, her acceptance, her nod of approval—none of which she seemed anywhere near willing to give. One week had passed, two—And she didn't so much as donate us a single smile, not a single review. And working for her wasn't so much like working for Green Lantern—who as the team leader of the JSA was known for his stern indifference. You see, Green Lantern may not have always been commending in the field, but he always gave us a proper goal to work towards; and he made it quite evident he wanted us to reach his level of expectation. With Kneehouse, it's different. Cyborg's team doesn't know what to work towards—cuz she doesn't have a goal for us, precisely because she obviously doesn't believe we can accomplish anything. And that hurts.**

"**Oh, we were hurt, alright. You could see the level of hurt in the degree to which joy was drained from Kory's eyes, or the grin sapped from Beast Boy's jaw—even Raven seemed a little bit paler. We still worked hard, and we still covered every angle of the City—from top to bottom—in search of the Underworld, with a diligence that even dwarfs my days of investigating loose ends across North America with the JSA.**

"**But what good is a great degree of work—haowever exceptional—when there's no expectation for victory? When there's no promise of retribution? When there's no chance of even a _pinch_ of joy to be had? We're superheroes—we know what it's like to work thankless jobs, with great humility and whatnot...**

"**...but to save a city, to drag it from the ashes and raise it on your shoulders, you gotta believe—you gotta _know_ that it loves you as much as you're willing to love it. Or else, what's the point?"**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 11th, 2004)**

_Schwissh!_

The automatic doors separating the ground level of Phaser Labs from the Common Room of the Bunker opened liquidly. Courtney shuffled in, clutching her purse and Bible cover. A stony expression, and she peered across the concretely cocoon'd interior.

"... ... ... ..."

Raven hovered in a corner, reading a book, indifferent as always to the universe. Beast Boy was lying back on one of the sofas, slumbering away in a fitful miasma of unconsciousness. A laptop on a table across from him flickered through an old Warp Trek rerun, utterly ignored. Somewhere in the penumbra of the gray place, a light flickered from Cyborg's laboratory, where a few grunts and grumbles of frustration could be heard as the unseen half-android worked ever so laboriously on an impossible investigation.

Courtney took a deep sigh. She sauntered off, invisible, towards her quarters, sealing herself within, peeling off the epidermis of a day that had died long before it was even born.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 12th, 2004)**

Stargirl and Beast Boy hovered over the lengths of Jump City. A windy air made their flight difficult, with random gails shoving back against their high altitude cruise, attempting to push them back west—towards the Bunker, towards home.

The blonde clenched her braced teeth, struggling to see through random clouds of dust and kicked-strands of her own hair as she squinted her eyes on a scanner in her gloved grasp. With one hand clutching tightly to the cosmic rod, her other thumbed awkwardly from one button to another on the device, blipping loudly, searching for radiaction signals and photonic emissions amidst the dozens of labyrinthal streets and alleyways beneath the two heroes.

For several prolonged minutes, the device beeped and blinked away—but brought up no solid data.

Stargirl sighed. She glanced to her right.

A green seagull glanced back at her.

She shook her head.

The seagull let out a squawk, motioned with its head, and soared eastward—towards the Shipyards.

Stargirl silently, dutifully followed—beating further against the wind with her golden rod—as the two attempted to scan the next adjacent District.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Cyborg paced and paced at the head of the briefing room in Phaser Labs. He outlined dozens of bits of data collected from the day's worth of scanning—almost all of it benign. Vic projected a map of Jump City, with some parts highlighted and some parts not. He clumsily struggled to differentiate one string of findings from another, ultimately gesturing towards a part of the map, hitherto unexplored, and narrating onward with a sullen frustration continuing to boil under his skin.

At some point in the middle of the briefing, Raven murmured something—And Cyborg barked back at her in protest. She merely frowned, folded her arms, and allowed the team leader to go on with the inane ritual, as a thick syrup of dread and boredom saturated the already shadowed room.

Stargirl was sitting in her chair, slumped back, twirling the cosmic rod in her naked fingers. She stared at her pair of gloves resting on the desktop, discarded—and she stared _through_ them into some hidden realm, darker than that place, and yet she almost wished that she could sink there instead. Cyborg's rambling words entered her ears. She heard him, and yet she didn't hear him. She sat there, lingering...Lingering...

They all were...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

At night, alone in her quarters, Courtney sat on the edge of her bed, clad in lavender pajamas. She thumbed through the laminated multi-page folder in her lap, reviewing for the umpteenth time the information Cyborg and Robin had gathered concerning the Underworld. Her blue eyes reviewed the same bits of data, the same miniature maps of Jump City districts, the same testimonial quotations that she had read every other night during the first two weeks.

Everything bled into the same rabbit hole.

Her eyes weakly darted up across the small confines of her quarters. She saw a pile of unfinished homework on her desk—An even bigger pile of textbooks—And a mysterious stack of stationary in the far corner. All of it weighed heavily on her head, like a wreathe of thorns on planet Jupiter.

She sighed and retreated into the obscure clouds of her bed.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 13th, 2004)**

Stargirl ran through the alley, her boots splashing in puddles left from April showers. The sky overhead was an unfeeling grey ceiling that contrasted with her golden rod and flickering hair. She ran, snarled, and jump-kicked through a side door-

-explosively entering the confines of a darklit warehouse. She shone her Cosmic Rod in, aiming left and right—seething through braced teeth—scanning the area through tousled blond threads for thugs and gang members.

There were none.

One blink later, and a hole was smashed through the ceiling. Starfire sailed in, raising two fists full of bright green starbolt energy. An emerald albatross sailed in beside her, followed by Robin—descending on a grappling hook and landing on an empty concrete floor with his bo-staff extended. He glanced around with a glinting eyemask, silently staring at the emptiness that was quite blatantly staring back at him, all of them.

Finally, Cyborg entered—arm in arm with Raven—through a warbling, violet portal. He didn't even bother to prepare his sonic cannon. He and the sorceress marched into the place, gazing at the empty lengths of the room.

A dismal quiet...

Cyborg rubbed the human part of his head. He strolled over to Robin, shrugging wildly and grunting in befuddlement. The Boy Wonder replied, gestured towards Starfire, and grabbed the scanning device that she promptly tossed at him. He pivoted towards Cyborg, pointed a green glove at the data they had just collected on the warehouse, and shrugged towards the building's empty lengths.

Victor was quiet at first, but not for much longer. His shoulders heaved—He snatched the scanner from Robin's hands and tossed it angrily against a faraway wall. To his further frustration, the device rattled harmlessly to the floor, not even bothering to shatter or crack. The half-android shuffled across the room, kicked at a pile of month-old discarded newspaper scraps, and let loose an echoing expletive across the darklit place.

Everyone else—Beast Boy and Starfire especially—hung their heads.

Stargirl shut her heavy eyelids and breathed...breathed...breathed...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

In the grey afternoon, Stargirl perched besides a forest of chimneys and ventilation shafts. She pivoted about, waving her scanner towards every horizon of the twelve-story apartment building she stood atop of. A gentle thunder rolled in the distance—the tell tale sign of a storm front that had been moving through the City all week, but culminating nao—in all its dismal irony.

The scanner blipped—not an actual confirmation, but the bare bones hint of _hope—_enough to perk something in Stargirl's inner being. She turned around and called for her daily partner.

Raven sat, meditating in her very own world. She was gazing west-south-west, towards a bayside district, towards where a particular hospital rested...

Stargirl called to her again.

Raven snapped out of it—with a jolt of the neck that was awkward, even for her—and she turned towards Stargirl with a nod. She flew in the appopriate direction of the scan, as if telepathically having read what Stargirl was going to say.

The blonde blinked at her, briefly glanced west southwest, shrugged it off with a sigh, and took off for the grey sky after the sorceress...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Under a black wet night, they hovered—Stargirl, Starfire, and Beast Boy. The Star Spangled Kid had erected a golden shield over their heads with her cosmic rod, disgracefully reducing Jack Knight's magnificent device to the mere utility of a dollar store umbrella. In the halo of golden light it cast, thin needles of perpetual rain could be seen shooting down on all sides of them. It was not a heavy downpour, but a neverending drizzle all the same—undaunted, even in the presence of superheroes.

All three of them shifted and said nothing. They gazed over across the street, towards the sixth story window of the JCPD building. Raven was perched on a windowsill, shielding herself from the rain with an avarian outline of her soul self. She gazed boredly back at them, then gazed with muted interest into the window—where Robin and Cyborg were collectively speaking with an ever irate police commissioner.

Stargirl and her cluster of cohorts could even hear the shouts from that far away. She shuddered, kept her grip tight of the golden rod, and stared off towards a distant splotch of silverish light across the Bay—a half constructed Tower's attempt at reflecting the grey liquid night of an April thunderstorm.

She wondered, perhaps even hoped, that a flood could wash this all away...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 14th, 2004)**

A brief break in the grey rain that morning, and Stargirl took a moment in the middle of her beat to sit on the shores of Jump City Beach, gazing at the golden rays cast downward from the rising sun through the soupy ceiling of cloud cover. The salt air danced in her inhaling nostrils—but the warmth of the momentary interlude was lost to her. The tide had just recently receded, and—combined with the perpetual drizzle of rain—it had left the sand beneath her saturated, like a second mud.

Something in Stargirl's lower limbs twitched. She ran a gloved hand along her left boot, tapping through to the artificial steel set deeply within, an instinctual act that chased the _phantom _away.

For the first time since she had come to Jump City, her stomach growled, and Courtney thought of one thing and one thing only: A warm breakfast back home in Blue Valley, Nebraska.

_'Back home'..._

"... ... ..." She bit her lip. A venomous sinking feeling emanated through both ends of her gut, and he had only one recourse. She got up, dusted the flakes of sand off, and soared as fast as she could—as high as she could—into the soupy oblivion, just in time to outrun the rain as it filled any gap in thought.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

In the middle of the day, when the sky—even as grey as it was—could have been brightest, Courtney found herself buried deep in the womb of the Bunker. She poured through homework, surrounded by a sea of half-open textbooks and twice spilled folders. The blonde girl swam through a sea of numbers, letters, and headings—running on adrenaline and sleep deprivation. She couldn't even summon the strength to yawn.

She glanced briefly at an alarm clock next to her bed, reading the time: '12:24 pm'. Her eyes squinted, as she remembered that Cyborg had scheduled for the team's training session nearly half an hour ago. But there was no summon through the Bunker's intercom system. Then again, if what Courtney witnessed earlier that day was still the case—of Cyborg crunching through random bits of incomplete data, alone in his laboratory—then he had no intention of falling through with the regularly scheduled session in Phaser Labs. It mattered very little, the training session was ignored for the sake of research the last two occasions in a row.

Courtney exhaled through her nostrils and decided to focus on something infinitely more important...her eight page report on militant factions in the Republic of Congo. She suddenly had the entire afternoon free. Superheroism, apparently, could wait...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Another rainy day, another rainy nightfall.

Stargirl stood on the edge of a brightly lit billboard advertising JCN Broadcasting. Just three feet from her was Robin, both his gloved hands tightly gripping a scanner as the Boy Wonder thoroughly tested it on the lengths of Upper Downtown.

The silence that persisted between them was virtually concrete. Stargirl spent the minutes upon minutes staring out into the misty horizon, her blonde threads gradually soaking in the methodic drizzle. Her heart beat slowly, warmly, but unenthusiastically from deep beneath her costume.

"... ... ... ... ..."

She blinked under her mask. Her blue eyes scanned the horizon, the cityscape, the skyscrapers, the unfinished stalk of Kobayashi Tower, rising ever so slowly towards the misty grey heavens.

"... ... ... ... ..."

"Red."

Stargirl's heart skipped a beat. She couldn't control it. "What's th-that, Robin?" She glanced over at him, her lips feeling strangely stiff from the effort of suddenly talking.

"Red." He repeated in an effortless drone. He continued to plink away at the scanning device as he muttered over his shoulder. "It's my favorite color. What's yours?"

She blinked. "Oh... ...Uhm... .. ...Eheh...Blue. Isn't that a little obvious?"

"Not necessarily. What we wear and what we appreciate aren't always joined at the hip."

"Right... ...I-I guess..." Stargirl shuddered, but managed a nervous smile as she ran a glove through her hair with her free hand. "Th-That was...erm... ...a l-little _random_ on your part, wasn't it?"

"Perhaps..." Robin remarked.

"What's the deal? I know something's up, Robin."

"Cyborg says I should socialize more." Robin uttered dryly into the cold sprinkle of night. "I'm not all that sure I believe him, but he's the leader. And I don't really want to turn into another Raven."

"Oh, heaven forbid!" Stargirl melodramatically exclaimed. A repressed smile: "That would be a crime against all things that are good!"

"Right. Glad to hear you agree." He fiddled onward with the devicen in his grasp. "So, what—Blue sweaters? Blue bicycles? Blue school backpacks?"

"Robin—You don't have to _try_ to be social if you don't want to." Stargirl moaned. "I don't care what Vic says-" A numb giggle. "-for once."

"Humor me. I need to improve."

"Pfft.. ...I dunno." Stargirl shrugged, looking over, looking at him. "Blue... ...uh... ...Boxers!-_SNkkkt-Box cutters!_ I said box cutters!.!.!"

"... ... ..." Robin briefly paused to glance her way, a Vulcan eyebrow raised. He returned just as stiffly to his ministrations with the scanner. "Good thing you have that cosmic rod to fly with. Nobody's going to let you through any airport, at that rate."

"Yeah..." Stargirl sighed with relief. "You're certainly right on the honey, Robin—_er—_**Money**. I mean..._Dang it, girl!"_

"Is something the matter, Courtney?"

"I'm just **tyred**..." She slumped, groaning. "Just... ...yanno.. ..._tyred_..."

Robin nodded. "This sort of nightly routine will do that to you."

"It's more than that, Robin! This whole thing—This whole investigation—This..." She trailed off. She clenched her eyes shut, tensed her arms, then untensed them. A breath. She sat down, propping the cosmic rod up so that it arched over her head like one leg of an open ladder. "... ... ..." She stared out onto the rooftops of the City beneath them, then tilted her head the Boy Wonder's way. "Hao long do we have, Robin?"

"Hao long do we have until what?"

"Until we fall apart..." Stargirl looked sad. "The team."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Wouldn't you?" Her mask'd brow furrowed. "Robin, you're _hardcore_. If World War Three broke out and two hundred million people died in a nuclear blink, you'd just shrug it off and start taking samples of the dead."

"Nao who's starting to become like Raven?"

"Dang it—_Can we stop using that girl as a litmus test?"_

"I'm... ...s-sorry..." Robin blinked from under his mask, craning his head slightly towards Stargirl. "I didn't know you were so concerned over-"

"I'm just **concerned**, okay? Is that such a crime?" She frowned. "Is it so bad to be scared for this team? For what we're becoming?"

"I don't know. I'm not scared-"

"Thank you, Captain Obvious!" She tossed her arms with a mask'd eyeroll. "You're a detective, Robin! Don't you _detect_ hao cold and heartless things have been over the past few days? Hao dank and dreary and quiet the Bunker has been? Hao with each setback in our investigation, the team only grows colder and more distant and-"

"Victor still hasn't apologized for shouting at you the night of the Buzzard Gang incident, has he?"

"Don't change the subject! I mean it—This team is... ..." Stargirl blinked. "... ...hao did you know about that?"

"... ... ... ..."

"Oh. Lemme **guess**." Stargirl frowned. "You were **there**. Hovering around—Watching us like a hawk, as always." She groaned and hid her face in her knees, hugging them to herself. "Nnnnngh... ... Why do I even bother?" A limp half minute of breathless silence, and she muttered: "I envy Kory..."

"What for?"

"She isn't ashamed to let go of her emotions..." Stargirl's voice was dry, rock-solid, in spite of herself. "She can cry at the drop of a hat and not feel bad about it." She lifted her face and tucked a blonde strand behind her ear. "I'm the most girlish thing to come out of the JSA—and for some reason, I can't even shed a single tear. Even when I really want to."

"Stereotypes are stereotypes-"

"That's not the heart of the matter, Robin." She glanced over his way. "Starfire's right about humans. We bottle things up. We give up too easily."

"Speak for yourself."

"And maybe I do speak for myself!" Stargirl frowned. "The thing is—I don't see either you or Cyborg bothering to admit that there's a need for us to speak for ourselves! I mean—Victor started this team with the promise of an open forum—But everytime I so much as brush up against him, he's got his head twenty miles deep in this...this..._stupid_ investigation! He's a different creature! He nearly bit off Raven's head for a harmless comment the other day!"

"He's deeply committed to our mission-"

"He's deeply _obsessed_ is what you mean! Face it, Robin..." Stargirl's eyes were firm. "You've got the cooler head between the both of you. You've got the _coolest_ head _of us all_. Maybe things should be—I dunno—_different_. You could be managing the whole invesigation—from the necessary throne of hardcore immovability. That way, Cyborg could have the break he needs to settle down, patch up his exposed wirings, and be the kind of leader I was drawn to respect when this whole mess began! Because _his team_ needs him more than the Underworld needs him to expose itself! Otherwise, we'll burst at the seams and become _truly_ useless to him, to the City, even to Kneehouse!"

"Stargirl..."

"And don't you try to deny it, Robin!" She pointed a gloved finger and rested it back on her knees. "You would be _awesome_. You **are** awesome. Why can't you and Cyborg... ...yanno... ... ..switch chairs? Just for _a day_ at least?"

"... ... ... ..." He didn't face her as he said: "You think too much of me, Courtney."

"No I-..." She opened her lips, then bit them, blushing.

He didn't see it—or at least she _hoped_ he didn't. "The reason that _**I**_ came to this team, the reason I came to Cyborg—is precisely for the reason we can't perform the switcheroo you're presently suggesting." He glanced back finally, his eyemask as pale as the grey, rain-touched City. "I didn't want to be in the center. I wanted to use my talents in the way that I've always been meant to—as a sidekick, as an ace up Cyborg's sleeve. He could mind the table, deal the cards, manage the game—But not me. When I decide the way hands should be played, people get hurt—Because I only know hao to gamble when only I have things to lose. I'm not good at thinking for others, and I don't intend to take that weight upon my shoulders."

"Robin..." She murmured at him, a wilted look in her eyes. "You count yourself too short. You—of all people—can do better-"

"To do better, I have to _**be**_ better." Robin coldly retorted. A hint of a frown—not directed at her or anyone else, but perhaps the slight hint of a reflection in the scanning device that he presently redirected his gaze upon. "Who ever heard of a superhero team led by a scrawny person with no superpowers...?"

"Batman does it." Stargirl shrugged, a braced hint of a smile. "Kinda sorta—R-Right?"

"And I..." Robin's voice had the hint of a snarl. "...am **not** Batman. Can't the world see that?"

"Erm...I-I-"

"I am many things, some important and some not—But I am no legend, I am no _image_, I am..." His voice lingered off. "..."

A molasses of silence. Stargirl craned her neck curiously. "... ... ...?" She glanced Robin's way, and saw that he was staring intently across the rooftops of the City, towards the south, towards the Southern Warehousing District. "... ...Robin?" He didn't respond, so she trailed his gaze even further...

...until it fell upon four letters, strung together atop a gently strobing dance hall in the distance, hanging in the misty distance of an unassuming rainy night. The letters read: _**'S.O.T.O.'**_

"Do you see something, Robin?" She blatantly asked.

He finally snapped out of it with a shrug of his shoulders. "Nobody." He muttered, plinking away at the scanner. "Absolutely _nothing_." He repeated, this time correcting himself.

She hugged her knees tight, gazing down at the City. "I need to know, Robin. From you—if not from Vic..."

"You kneed to know _what_?"

"... ...do we have hope?" She murmured against the drizzle in the air. "Does our team have any hope...?"

"I'm not Victor. I can't instill hope in the team. I can only rationalize it-"

"Then rationalize it if you would..." She looked up at him with gentle, needful blue eyes. "For me? Please?"

"... ... ..." He nodded with his head. A sighing voice: "An investigation is not about letting hope fuel your search. It's about letting facts. And I feel..." A pause. He shifted where he stood, took a glance at Stargirl's puppy eyes, and finally groaned forth a relenting: "I **know** that we're onto something. Just... ...There's no telling hao long the search will take. But because the search is a lengthy one—It doesn't mean that we should let despondence reign supreme, and... ...erm..._dampen_ our aspirations for this team, I-I guess..."

She smiled at him. "Nao, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Whatever floats your boat." Robin remarked with a shrug. "Nao if you'll excuse me..." He stood up straight, and aimed a grappling hook into the urban quagmire. "I've got to scan the rest of Downtown."

She made to get up. "Right. I'll come along-"

"I wouldn't suggest that." POW! "I think you should go home and get some early sleep, Courtney."

She looked wounded. "But... ...B-But Victor said-"

"Cyborg, right nao, has ninety percent of his cerebral cortex fused with his laboratory computer—Analyzing the data that we've uncovered from the past three days." He pulled taut on the cord, not looking at her. "I don't think he would even _know_ that you retired early. In fact, he probably won't care."

And just like that, any summoned enthusiasm in Stargirl immediately plummeted. "Oh..." She blinked down towards her boots.

"You said so yourself, Stargirl. You're tyred. As a partner—_as a friend_..." He glanced at her. "I suggest you act on your exhaustion. You'll be of no use to the investigation if you're half asleep."

She bit her lip. "But will I be of any use at all otherwise...?"

"That's up to you." And with that blindly uttered, he swung away into the misty distance.

"... ... ..." She deflated, gripping her cosmic rod like a long lost limb. "I was wrong, Robin." She muttered into the silent air around her. "You'd make a sucky leader."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 15th, 2004)**

In the womb-dark blink of early morning, Courtney lay in bed, sullen face fixed frigidly on the ceiling above her. A gentle wash of crimson light poured over the girl from the alarm clock one arm-and-a-half away from where her head was.

The tiniest of exhales, a sign of life, and she blinked. Her lips were coiled tight, as if she had spent the entire length of the dead night swallowing down something foul.

Her dull blue eyes glanced right—towards the clock, checking the flickering time. It was far too early for her taste, far too late to do anything about it, and Courntey was far too awake to care either way.

A quiver, more like a quake—that started in her knees and then ran up into her gut—And she groaned. Courtney swiveled up until she sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the bloodrush of existence, powerless to shut her eyes against it.

She had to go somewhere. Anywhere. She had to _move_.

So Courtney shuffled over to the very edge of the mattress, reached for her 'foot', and started fastening it. The next moment—as soon as she could stand—she made for her boots...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The gray world was still on the verge of rain, even that early in the morning. Courtney didn't care. She pounced out of Phaser Labs in sweatpants, a blue sweatshirt, and black jacket. She had her running sneakers on, her golden hair tied back in a ponytail, her arms forming goosebumps in the cold April mist.

She just had to move...To run... ...To blitz the life back into living, if that was even possible. She didn't bother to check if there were any missions for that day. She didn't so much as talk to Cyborg, or drift by his laboratory. She just peeled out of her pajamas, into her running gear, and out into the great urban yawn of oblivion.

It occurred to her at some point—beyond the fifth or sixth block she huffed-and-puffed past, that she wasn't even wearing her Cosmic Converter Belt. And yet, she jogged on—Courtney Whitmore the human organism. She wasn't a superhero.

It didn't truly feel any different...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The streets were cold—but not dead. Garbage trucks slid in and out of alleyways, gargling under clouds of diesel dust and hydraulic grones. School buses made the last of their routes to campuses, trailing an air of young chattering voices and droning tires. Construction workers gathered around and switched their equipment on, putting the finishing touches on parking garages and sewer holes and intersection crosswalks.

The traffic started out rich, sleek, monochromatic, and silent—as monotonous hordes of men and women made their way along predictable paths to work. Then, as the Sun rose over the gray overcast, the traffic grew thinner, more colorful, more faded—as visitors zoomed through town, friends and families carpooled, and desperate nomads searched for jobs. When it was nearly noon, and thunderclouds started gathering darkly overhead, a brave migration of buses and shuttles filled up with citizens seeking a quick bite to eat.

A distant rumbled formed in the Jump City sky. Birds that had flocked about on windowsills and powerlines for hours on end suddenly scattered to their sheltered hiding places. Mother Nature was about to deliver another heavy shower to the concrete landscape. And somewhere, hidden in the muck of it all, the Underworld amphibiously avoided being washed away into limbo.

All of this, quietly and steadily, a flightless angel penetrated, one jogging foot after another, heading straight under the black anvil of thunder.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Courtney panted... ... panted... ... ... panted... ...

She was standing in place. She had stopped running.

The teenage girl gulped. She took a trembling step, two, three—forward, her head craning up to gaze at the great immensity before her.

The marble heights of the Jump City Summit Church cathedral stood above her, staring down like Mt. Sinai—grey against the greyer froth of the summoning thunderstorm. Not a drop had fallen yet; the entire world was resting upon the quiet, onyx threshold of a huge bang. She hovered breathless before the firing chamber, sweating limbs hung in a silent offering before the great marble steps of the House of God.

There were no services that day. There were no people, no nodding heads of graying hair, no hymns, no huddled masses making an exodus for Sunday afternoon brunch.

Everything was empty; everything was pure.

Alone, still trembling with the adrenaline of a City-wide jog, Courtney slinked down until she sat—sideways—on the steps, gazing up at the cathedral's body earnestly, as if she was a child balanced on a gentle shepherd's knee.

She gulped, fought for control of her quivering lips, and throated forth to the copper-scented air: "Am I doing what You want here? Is this part of Your plan?"

There was no answer.

She gulped, thinned her eyes, and craned her neck once more. "Am I really saving people... ... ...As You would have them saved?"

Silence. Even the surmounting thunderclouds were quiet.

Courtney blinked. Her face tightened. In a sharp breath, she viciously looked away from the marble facing, slumping down until she squatted on the steps with her elbows on her knees. She ran her sweating palms over her face, through her golden bangs. A long, wheezing exhale, and then she was silent again, gazing down the marble steps, forever careening on the precipice of collapse.

And still, even then, in the deepest pit of her being, Courtney could not summon the will to cry.

It only made her frown. She rubbed her hands together in a shuddering sigh. She stared up at the dark-grey ceiling lurching above, wondering what the clouds were waiting for. The dryness persisted, stretched the minutes to the breaking point, and finally sprung her aching legs up into a standing position. She slowly sauntered down the steps, faced West, and stumbled limply into the dull green expanse of Jump City Park.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

For the next hour or so, the ground and sky lurched towards each other—a dismal embrace—with twitching and waving treetops announcing the event horizon of a storm to end all storms. The clouds were blacker than wet mulch and dead leaves, fished out from under a continentally-sized rock, and a few fleeting birds fled from the inevitable tumult like ants and pill bugs escaping sight.

The park was toned over in the shadow of the convectional beast overhead. This didn't stop a few brave citygoers, joggers and pet-walkers, though. Courtney certainly wasn't alone along the greenskirted pathways—but she was most certainly alone in her silent trudge. As the copper of eventual rain thickened in the air, people both young and old picked up the pace and scurried off towards their respective homes, hovels, parked cars, and dinner engagements. But Courtney barely budged. Her movement was as slow as molasses, as excited as a settling iceburg.

The girl's face was frozen—not in sadness—but in a blank slate, on the verge of being rinsed by a deluge of confusion—hopeless in its contours.

When the first drop of rain came—Courtney didn't see it. Her eyes were glued to the sidewalk as she slithered along, her arms folded. A circular spot formed against the hard surface, then another, then three more. Soon there was a polka-dot portrait of the precipitation starting in misguided slowness, and about twenty seconds after the mosaic began, Courtney started to feel the first few plops of moisture on her shoulders, then her head, then her collar...

When she started to feel the drops landing on her _knees—_She realized that this was no ordinary drizzle, but the start of a merciless downpour. Finally, she looked up, thin eyes surveying the blackened scenery.

Green hilltops and winding sidewalk pathways emptied more and more—As families and friends and random citizens fled from the collapse of nature. And even as Jump City Park turned into a wasteland, Courtney barely moved.

A sudden, unexpected, manic flutter of the heartstrings—and Courtney tilted her head back, eyes shut, as she gently waved her arms out like the wooden maiden at the front of a sailing vessel. She felt the blood rush in her limbs—The streaming of raindrops past her elbows—The queer illusion of flying, only on her feet, and without the cosmic rod.

A sudden **crack—**like an infant monster piercing up through the eggshell Earth underneath, and Courtney's eyes were forced open. The air danced against her lashes—the atmosphere flexed from the motion of thunder, and she swam in the echoes, alone, a strung-up sacrifice to the bone chill shower of rain intensifying with each cloud crawl overhead.

The heavens had already released. Life no longer registered as 'dry'. Still, in spite of this drowning reality, Courtney felt no need to quicken her pace, had no rush to get herself to cover, had no pressing engagement to relocate herself to, had no inkling to struggle against the surmounting puddles about her—had no notion of a notion towards panic, just the ever-inching tug that drew her forward, forward, forward through the encompassing monsoon. A few water dunked stragglers—their hairy skulls a damp mat already—gave her perplexed grins as they jogged swiftly past this mad woman, this blonde with a death wish on a thundering afternoon, this crazy girl who actually dared to tread in the bubbling valley where cell phones and leather shoes and conditioned hairstyles refused to go.

A touch of blindness—a hot **white**—then returning to dull grey, and Courtney's heart murmured to acknowledge the kiss of lightning inside the perimeter of Jump City's skyline, followed within three naked seconds by a roll of booming thunder that confirmed hao close the electrical bombardment had struck to where she slowly, lackadaisically waded. The roof of the world rattled about her, shaking the raindrops looser, heavier, and more fixedly on her shuffling figure. She kept her eyes glued to the concrete path, blinking at her quivering self as the ground turned into a virtual mirror from the sudden curtain of moisture drawn across it. Rivers and estuaries of grey liquid seeped in from the grassy mounds and carpeted the pathways, forming solid canals.

It wasn't until the great oceanic flow of this necessary catastrophe started seeping into Courtney's right shoe—soaking her socks between twitching toes—that she finally, _finally_ started to perceive her situation in any degree of reality. She reminded herself of the distance traveled on foot from there to Phaser Labs, of this being only her second week of living in a City she barely knew, of hao the darkened sky—turned twice as opaque by the thickening rain—could very easily plunge into a foreboding nightfall, especially with as heavy and unsurmounting this thunderstorm was turning out to be; and there Courtney was, in the middle of an undeniable nowhere, and not only did she not have any of her Cosmic contraptions for granting her a much taken-for-granted invulnerability, but she didn't even take it upon herself to equip a cell phone, or the team communicator, or a lousy can of mace.

Since the stumbling visit to the mute cathedral, Courtney realized that she needed very desperately to fear God once more, and about an hour later—shuffling alone in the park, all alone, and thrown full throttle into the navel of a great thunderstorm—she had very quietly and immaturely orchestrated such a situation.

So it was with a slight tinge of guilt—and not of self-preservation—that the blonde quickened her pace. The strobes of lightning flanked her, the chimes of thunder shoved her along. There was a shuddering breath of hope in her, as she tilted her two nostrils away from the raindrops so as not to breathe any of the globs of moisture in; Courtney rationalized to herself that she was not yet entirely _soaked_, that she was not yet completely devoid of any dry splotches of sanity on her person—That there was still hope for her in making it out of this situation unscathed, that none of her co-workers would have a reason to laugh at her, or yell at her, or think that she had been overtly emotional or dramatic in this... ...this... ...this 'walk' of hers...

What was she out here to find? Was it truly waiting on the other side of the soaking curtain? Had Courtney Whitmore watched so many romantic comedies and chick flicks that she believed, deep inside her beating core, that a frolic through the rain truly cleansed the soul of angst and despair?

Courtney walked quickly—but she didn't run, as if to give into the sanest yet most animalistic of instincts would debase her, make her lose her dignity. She eyed the horizon of the grey, soaked park for something—anything—for her to huddle under, preferrably nothing that could channel lightning to her body. Scientific facts and figures fluctuated in brief maddening clarity, of all the ways that lightning or downdrafts or tornadic winds could reduce the blonde girl's body to charred splinters at that precise moment—without hesitation or warning. But she kept moving, undaunted. She didn't have the _fear_ yet...

Courtney rounded a bend in the waterfalling sidewalk, her right foot and numb left a pair of soggied guides through this moist land of collapse—And she saw it, on the crest of a hill: a gazebo, a circular roof, a shelter from the storm—haoever small—and a solid answer to her unuttered prayers.

It looked as though a few scant others had thought up the same idea. When Courtney sauntered up to the gazebo, her blue eyes came across three strangers within the 'dry' wooden folds of the circular structure: a middle-aged woman in a tank top, her head cradled in the ear buds of an MP3 player, her arms hugging her knees in a relaxed manner as she sat on the interior ledge and stared out at the wet falling ceiling of life... ... ...an elderly man in a golf shirt and a little gray terrier in toe, on a leash, fearfully eyeing the collapsing mayhem with a paranoia long forgotten by human beings... ... ...and a college-aged girl fighting with great frustration and defeat to rearranged a delapidated umbrella that had turned inside-out in the midst of her flight there. Courtney had no choice but to embrace these people, and with the clap of her shoes against the ascending wooden steps, she found herself hovering immediately inside the orbit of the three, submerged in a dry heat, her shoulders trembling in the sudden palpableness of the situation.

The elderly man looked at her. A broad, rubbery forehead, tan against the pale deluge engulfing the gazebo above and around them. A few matted strings of brown hair slithered across his widow's peak as he grinned her way, and spoke something indiscernible beneath the cacophony of thunder and rain. Courtney couldn't understand what he said—either because of the noise or his thick latino accent—but the one thing she did understand was his grin. The dog yelped briefly; the man ushered it closer to his feet with a gentle shushing noise, and the Gazebo was still again. Courtney gazed at the middle-aged woman. The lady barely craned her neck to look back, frozen peacefully in her seat, hugging her knees and listening to the music. Her mouth was in a perpetual curve, neither smiling nor frowning—just meditative a _real_. A rustling sound, and Courtney glanced at last at the college student again. She was performing a finishing move on the umbrella—an act that only tore it apart in the end, and she glanced Courtney's way with a defeated sigh, a shrugging of her shoulders, and a programmed grin—one that both teenaged girls knew, in their own cultured way—like something out of an eighties sitcom, an acceptance of all things existentially absurd and forgiveable about life.

And it was there, in a brief gasp of realization, that the cameras in Courtney's blue eyes snapped—highlighting the three utter strangers in the sky-blink of lightning flash—these statistically random bodies plucked from the rain soaked earth and dropped into this unwitting wooden petri dish of all places—it was there that Courtney saw it.

The Little Picture.

This wasn't Jump City, this wasn't the Eastern Seaboard, this wasn't some statistical quagmire for JCN Broadcasting to formulate its death tolls and crime rate spikes over—This was three people, three beating hearts, three real living things in the middle of chaos, and Courtney had become one of them—as a matter of incidence—a totally inane and delightfully dull miracle.

At some point, the woman with the earbuds sing-song'd something about the obligatory weather around them. The elderly man chuckled and mentioned a hurricane he had lived through in 1972... ..._'73?_ The college girl asked the man about the dog, and a conversation lit up about terrier breeds and age expectancies and finally ritualistic visits to the park and hao better it was than Gotham—everything was better than Gotham—_except when it came to food, unless it was Chinese, and hao many terms has Mayor Georgeton been elected for consecutively?-At least he's better than the local baseball team—and that Veronica Vreeland is totally a camera hogging gold digger. Isn't Robin Williams hilarious? Everybody loves bacon._

In the most random of situations, surrounded by damning water, Courtney—the Star Spangled Kid—was helplessly stripped of any and all superpowers, and yet she never felt so safe, so secure, so protected in her whole entire life—stuck there with three strangers, with the rain growing so thick one could barely see past five meters through it, with the gazebo only barely adequately sheltering them from the endless mist of water, with the closer and closer bursts of lightning threatening to burn all four of them alive.

They did not move from that spot. Not one bit.

Courtney almost thought—_almost—_of striking up a conversation, of communing with these silent siblings of spirit—when a clatter broke above the waves of thunder. She and at least one other head turned to see two shadows belatedly bullet-training through the grey ooze of rain, their soaked shoes slapping heavily through a sea of puddles, echoing in joined laughter—young laughter—a boy and a girl, teenaged, Courtney's aged, joined as one soaked and panting creature under the young man's outstretched and altogether worthless makeshift 'umbrella' of a jacket.

The middle-aged woman barely turned her head to see them, murmuring something against her cocoon of music. The elderly man chuckled for chuckling's sake. The dog yelped.

The two stormed up with a gasping exhale, then a joined _hoot_. Upon the third thud of their arrival up the steps—the teenage girl suddenly slipped, filling the entire gazebo with a sudden startling jolt of air, but she landed on her knees, giggling—instead of groaning—at her clumsiness. She was soaked through the skin, her t-shirt and shorts a blue mesh of soaked fabric.

Courtney wasn't sure hao she beat the girl's boyfriend, but the good samaritan in her made Courtney bend down, hand outstretched. She uttered her first words since entering the gazebo, the park, the leaking afternoon, as she grasped the girl's hand and pulled her up. "Don't worry, I gotcha!"

As if the rainwater turned to ice—the girl suddenly froze. Something about Courtney's exact words—_no—_something about Courtney's **voice;** The girl tilted her head up, the drunken grin of the desperate jog with her boyfriend leaving her, and a pair of vulnerable green eyes gazed through a curtain of stringy brown hair—flanked with freckles, freckles, freckles. She blinked. She uttered:

"It's _you_."

Courtney squinted back. Her lips were tight. She was so busy being puzzled, she forgot that she was 'helping the girl to her feet'.

The teenager stood up, clutching the young man's jacket around her shivering shoulders, her quivering chin dripping. "I-I know it... ... ...Oh heavens, it has to be..."

The boy leaned in, wringing out the length of the shirt hanging from his torso. "What is it, Lindsey...?"

"Don't you see?" She kept her eyes focused directly on Courtney. Everyone was suddenly looking at Courtney. The rainsoaked gazebo was threatening to collapse in on her. "It's _got _to be! Those eyes—That voice... ..." The teenager leaned forward, green eyes narrowing. "Say something again..."

Courtney blinked. She smiled helplessly, a shrug of her shoulders. "I don't know what to say-" Her braces showed...

"Omigosh! Omigosh! Omigosh! It _**is**_ her!" The girl jumped against her boyfriend as if the place had turned into some sort of mosh pit. Her sneakers squished and schlucked against the wooden floor as she cupped a hand over her grinning face. "I _so_ can't believe it! Oh wow! Wowowowow—It's **you**."

Courtney suddenly felt a deep drop in her gut, something that groaningly threatened to pull the root of the world out from under this scene, this _moment—_even before she knew exactly hao to label the 'moment'.

"Who, Lindsey?" The boyfriend scratched his black, matted hair.

"Don't you see, Ben?" The girl all but squeaked, leaning up against him as if on the verge of collapse—She still kept smiling, beaming, in the blonde's direction. "It's her!" She bit her lip before squealing forth: "The girl who saved me the other night..."

"Do I know... ...?" Courtney blinked, almost rolled her eyes. "I-I mean... ... ...H-Have I run into you... ... ...Somewhere?"

"You mean you don't remember?" 'Lindsey' stared, breathless. "A week ago... ...These Asian gang bangers attacked a video rental store downtown. They... ...Th-They threw me out into the street..."

Courtney's feet found the Earth again. The collapse ended before it began, and a warm wave of wonder and shock filled the thunderous void. She breathed shudderingly against the collective mist of the observing world about her, and smiled helplessly. "You... ... ...You were the sales clerk whom I... .. ...Erm.. ... ...With the semi truck... ... ...And... ...uh... ...y-yeah..." She ran a nervous hand over her hair—but in so doing, she shook loose a cascade of moisture from her tangled threads. The sudden water blanketed her vision, made her feel like she was emerging through a surprised baptism. She had nowhere to run—and, queerly enough, no current desire to do so.

"Omigosh... ...Omigosh I _can't_ believe it-" Lindsey's eyes suddenly flickered wide. "Eeep!" She covered her mouth and half-hid behind her boyfriend. "I... ...eheh... ...I-I'm sorry. I guess... ...erm... ... ...I guess you d-don't want anyone knowing. I mean, that y-you're _**you**_...and all..."

"No...-"

"You d-don't even have your costume on and here I am gushing all over-"

"No, it's okay..." Courtney raised a hand, exhaling. "Really..." She gently smiled, glanced at her peripheral, pleased herself to notice that none of the other three were **staring**. She pushed and pulled at her blonde threads once more and murmured: "There's nothing to apologize for. I just... ...erm...j-just didn't recognize you at first...I-I guess..."

"But I _recognized_ you!" Lindsey stammered. "I mean...I was pr-pretty shaken up that night, of course."

"She was a real mess-" 'Ben' began.

_Thap!_ Lindsey wetly slapped his chest and took the reins of the conversation again: "But, a day or two later, I did some research—I looked you up..."

"H-Hoboy..." Courtney quietly winced.

"...you were unmasked. I mean, there was this whole documentary in Kansas or someplace-"

"Nebraska. Close enough."

"-even Lois Lane gave you an interview. You seemed to have everything so... ...so... ..._together!_ And hanging out with people as classy as the JSA! And being a super-chick wearing an outfit that isn't _slutty_ for a change-"

"Snkkkt—Hahahaha!" Ben managed.

The freckled girl winced, rolled her eyes, and hung loosely off his arm. "Unnngh—I'm sorrryyyyy—It's just that... ...That..." She hid briefly behind him again, then swung back to smile gently the blonde's way. "... ...You saved my life..."

"... ... ..." Courtney shrugged, a fluttering smile. "It's what I do-"

"For the second time."

Courtney blinked. "Say what?"

"Erm, well—Not _you_ necessarily... ... ...But **your team**..." Lindsey pushed a few stringy brown bangs of hair out from her forehead. Her eyes gazed off through the thick gallons of rain surrounding the sparse wooden dryness, engulfing the place with noise. "... ... ...your team's been visiting this City for just a few months, _ barely that—_and still, you've managed to save me **twice."**

"I don't see hao... ...I mean, that is..." Courtney stuttered, swallowed, and said: "I-I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage again. When did we first-?"

"The night those aliens attacked our City... ...months ago..." Lindsey looked at her with wet eyes. "I was across the street from the same place as when the gangs attacked... ... ..._Feh... ..._ Frickin' luck..."

"Oka-ay..." Courtney briefly, helplessly giggled. Listening.

"... ... ...and that girl—the alien—the one with the gorgeous green eyes..." Lindsey's own lit up as she smiled through her teenage freckles. "She dragged Ben here and myself from a collapsing building."

"The only reason we were out for a walk today is because she gave us both another lease on life." Ben added with a nod.

"It's _more_ than that..." Lindsey murmured. "... ... ...it's a pattern."

"It's just a fortunate coincidence..." Courtney rationalized. The rain seeped in, growing heavier, pounding harder. It was impossible to stay dry _anywhere_ at this point. "My team and I—we're doing what we can to stop bad people from hurting folks like you. The fact that we saved you twice on two separate occasions—That's just us doing our jobs..."

"Surely you don't believe that..." Lindsey stared, a perfect stranger piercing Courtney's concrete soul. "And nao we're here, two rain drenched idiots with nowhere to go. You think the stars align so stupidly?" She sniffed something back into herself and managed a limping smile. "It's nothing other than an act of God."

"... ... ..." Courtney felt a raindrop, warmer than the rest, under her left eye. She cleared her throat, absorbed it into the rest of the deluge with her soaked sleeve, and glanced off into the gray chaos. "Uhm... ... ...'Lindsey'... ...if that's your name-"

"Yes?"

"... ... ...I'm very glad that y-you're alive and safe."

Lindsey grinned sweetly, hugging her boyfriend's side, clinging, as she gazed at the stripped superhero. "I'm sure you are..."

"So...uh..." Ben smirked brightly. "Out of all days to hang up your glowy staff thingy—You pick the wettest afternoon in April."

"Heh-_heh_. **Yeah**. Well..." Courtney gazed away from them.

"What brings you out here in the middle of this mess?"

"Just trying to stay dry."

"Heh. That makes all of us..." Ben nodded his head towards the others. "Global Warming? More like Global Bedwetting!"

The others chuckled at his humorless humor. A collective acknowledgement of civilization, encased in a wooden spiral.

"Bet you wished you had that contraption of yours with you right nao..." Lindsey smirked at Courtney. "You could be whisking yourself away from all of this within a blink. It must stink to be without it."

"Yeah... ... ...No." Courtney corrected herself. She then looked steadily towards the two. "I couldn't be more comfortable."

"Heeheehee—You superheroes are made out of some tough stuff, boy let me tell you-"

"We're not quite as super as you might think." Courtney replied. "You two must have courage the size of the Grand Canyon to have endured two near-death experiences together."

"Yeesh..." Lindsey swooned. "You could say that again."

"I nearly had a heart attack when I heard the news report from Downtown-" Ben began.

_**CRACKKK!**_

It was upon the crest of the immense thunder that everyone suddenly realized that lightning had struck no further than half a kilometer away. The park screamed around them, making the water shake before it hit the ground. The dog cowered and the college girl shivered while the elderly man and the middle aged woman shared brave smirks, exhaling into the chaos of it all.

"Okay...m-make that three near death experiences..." Lindsey trembled closer to Ben, towards the center of the near-worthless gazebo. "This is starting to get a _little_ scaryyyyyyyy..."

"Wooo!" Ben squinted against a sudden gail. "Yeah—Th-that's what I'm talking about!"

"I-I don't find it n-nifty at all-" Lindsey's voice barely registered. She glanced Stargirl's way. "I bet you a-aren't scared..."

"Oh, th-this?" Courtney uttered, trembling, soaked. Her blue eyes trailed under the weight of a nonexistent facemask. She summoned forth: "Oh... ...it's like that one time Green Lantern and I were stuck inside an office building in Florida!" _ It was a delapidated warehouse_. "And there was this horrible afternoon thunderstorm beating in on the windows." _It was a tropical storm._ "And we couldn't run out cuz there were like twelve of Intergang's robots stalking us from inside the corridors." _There were fifty robots_. "And either we had to run out into the open, brave the storm and thunder to get to our friends, and get backup—Or else fight off all the evil automatons inside!" _The roof had collapsed, rain had poured in, Stargirl had to single-handedly fend off the metal monsters while Green Lantern recharged his ring._ "Pretty heavy stuff, but we pulled through just fine!" _ Flash and the others joined up twenty minutes later._ "This is nothing!" _Stargirl suffered two fractured limbs and a broken arm._

Ben and Lindsey chuckled—But then that _nothing_ turned into a burst of wind and thunder. The rain flew horizontal—curtains of moisture swathed over the green landscape, burying the park around them. The college girl's umbrella flew off like a dying dove. The middle aged woman squinted, her mp3 player getting hopelessly soaked as she tried to keep listening. The man clutched to his leash, his dog whimpering and hiding under one of the benches.

Courtney gasped—the air leaving her lungs—but not because of the sudden flare and tumult of hellish nature, but rather because of the savage cold of the rainwater nao slapping mercilessly against her torso from a near ninety-degree angle. She could no longer escape it. She was soaked from top to bottom. She squinted, her braced teeth starting to chatter.

Across the frigid gazebo, Lindsey and Ben clung to each other, two once-frightened souls suddenly being frightened again. They glanced Courtney's way...muted by the cacophonous drain of the heavens.

"... ... ..." And Courtney smiled back. Empty of all things but herself, she spread her arms out against the rain and wind—weathering the storm like an angelic windsail. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and _lived._

Lived for what the moment was worth, on the edge of a death that would never come, so long as she stood there—flying in place—so shiveringly vulnerable. And Ben and Lindsey lived as well, lived with her, and with the other three, and with the surmounting thunder and lightning, and the laughter that ensued when the gail ended, and the Red Sea parted, a bone-chilling forty-five minutes later, and afforded them the first chance to flee—not in fear—but in ecstasy.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Courtney could still feel the icy pinpricks of rain slapping against her wing-like arms...even as she sat there, palming the warm mug of hot chocolate in her grasp, across the bench from Lindsey and Ben in the parkside diner. A few huddled citizens, their coats and umbrellas similarly soaked, waited for the latest drizzle of rain to pass on by. The head cook of the restaurant was passing out two bundles of paper towels, allowing people to get the sheen of the afternoon off their faces and forearms, returning to normal dry civilized existence.

"It's all that anyone at school talks about—Aside from final exams and all." Lindsey spoke.

"... ... ..." Courtney broke out of her daze, turning to look back at the freckled girl, a soft smile. "Hmm?"

"You." Lindsey nodded. "Your team. Robin and Victor Stone—the alien and the magician and the shape shifter..."

"Don't they have a pet monkey in a cape too?" Ben remarked, smirking. "I thought every superhero team had a pet monkey in a cape—_Owwww!_ He chuckled, rubbing his ribcage.

Lindsey holstered her vicious elbow and glanced back at Courtney. "We've got a raffle on campus over what you're going to call yourselves. Everyone's dying to hear your name."

"Isn't that quaint...?" Courtney sipped from the hot chocolate. "Thanks for this, by the way..."

"Hehehe—No problem." Lindsey proudly smiled. "It's the least we could do."

"For what? We all drowned rather equally today." Courtney remarked. She shifted about nervously where she sat, then glanced up weakly at them. "And really... ...you two don't owe us anything-"

"Oh come on-"

"I mean it." Courtney said firmly. "We're not here in this City to obligate people into respecting us. We do what we do cuz we're good at it, and we like it—Not because we want to tell Jump City hao to live their lives, or what they owe or don't owe."

"Well, good grief!" Lindsey blinked. "What would ever make you expect us to think that way?"

Courtney bit her lip, her eyes trailing the surface of the diner table between them. The rainsoaked windows cast a kaleidoscopic reflection on her paled skin. "I wish everybody in this City had a fan club for us..."

Ben smirked. "Well, I can't imagine the criminals are all that pleased with you being here."

"If only it was that simple..." Courtney murmured, distant. "_...if only everything was that simple_."

Lindsey leaned her head against Ben's shoulder, gazing at the blonde girl. "... ... ...You were looking for something, weren't you?"

"Hmmm?"

"In the park. When we met in the rain." Lindsey blinked. "Why else would a superhero in her right mind go for a walk without any of her gadgets?"

"Superheroes aren't quite as smart as you're led to believe."

"Don't sell yourself short, girl..." Ben pointed. "It doesn't take a rainy day to get lost... ...Just a _down_ day."

"... ... ..." Courtney fidgeted. She bravely glanced their way. "Okay...Kind of a tangent here..."

"Heh—We're kind of a listening bunch of ears."

Courtney placed the mug down on the tabletop and absentmindedly traced its circular edges with her fingertips. "Have either of you... ... ...erm... ...Gone to Jump City Summit?"

Lindsey squinted. "What, you mean the church?"

"Yeah. Uh...the church."

"Hmph—Hehehe...No..._Nooo..."_ Lindsey stifled a giggle, failing. "But we know a bunch of people that do—And a stiff old math teacher or two, for that matter. The place is pretty majestic, alright, and it's got some loyal members—Dedicated followers. You can't flip through the local channels without picking up their Sunday Morning feed. I hear they got a pretty wicked organ too..."

"... ... ... ..." Courtney leaned her wet head forward. "...**But**...?"

"Erm..." Lindsey blushed through her freckles. Her green eyes darted up Ben's way.

He smirked and spoke forth: "It's one thing to worship in the house of God. It's another thing to worship in a cemetery."

Courtney squinted at him...

"Yeah, I know that sounds cruel—But what's even crueler is an evangelistic message that assures someone of eternal damnation before inviting them into the loving congregation to begin with. Sure, Hell burns hot, and Pastor Yeager likes to remind people of that—But that's not what _it's all about—_Yanno? I think that's why the only people who really go to Jump City Summit are those who are sure in their hearts that they've made their way right with God _eons_ ago—so that they can hide out in a bunker-like-cathedral from here through the Seven Years of Tribulation and get their places in Heaven. I think they forgot ages ago that you can't shut out the rest of the world and somehao expect to be performing God's Will—you dig?"

"I've heard two of Yeager's sermons..." Courtney spoke. "...but he didn't talk about damnation."

"Lemme guess-" Ben grinned thinly. "Book of Job."

"**Yes.**"

"Heheheh—And, on top of that..." He pointed. "...walking in the Light doesn't have to mean suffering and growing gray hairs. But, such are the wages of complacency, yanno? You mustn't lose sight of the Good News-That's what makes the whole joyous cogwheel of salvation keep turning, right?"

"... ... ..." Courtney stirred uncomfortably, fought around the hedges of pretense, and finally leapt into the fold, murmuring: "I... ...uh... ... ...I've been meaning to ask around...for _a different_ place of fellowship. But...I... ...I-I never had a chance to meet someone who could understand what I was looking for..." He eyes darted back up. "Until nao."

Lindsey smiled sweetly. "Well, nobody but the Heavenly Father knows what you're looking for. But we're happy to help."

"I just want a place to go where... ..." Courtney swallowed a lump down her throat. "... ...where people want to _live_ in Christ—not die in His aftertaste. Where they're sure they're doing what _God wants_..."

Lindsey and Ben exchanged glances. They bashfully smirked Courtney's way.

"Well, if you're up to it..." Lindsey shrugged. "You could sorta try where we go on Sunday Evenings..."

"Oh?" Courtney blinked. "I'm intrigued."

"Bay Faith Assembly." Lindsey said. "We're small—about one hundred and fifty strong—But we've been building a fellowship very swiftly over the past two years. It's a bunch of people our age—yours too—and their families."

"And before you ask-" Ben pointed with a wry smirk. "No—It's not some pathetic Beverly Hills 90210 of Bible Clubs. We've got an Outreach program, a prayer group, a kids' ministry in the works—Pretty happenin' stuff. So, in the end, it makes the praise and worship service worth every rocking minute."

"Heeheehee..." Courtney smiled and sipped from the mug. "Don't worry—I'm not scared off. I'm willing to give it a shot. Where's the church?"

"Erm..." Lindsey bit her lip. "We don't have one."

"Oh?"

"We meet up in South Central High's gymnasium—Just west of the Southern Residential District. It's better than you think—Last year we met in a _bingo hall_."

"Sounds exciting." Courtney said. A sudden jolt. "Th-That wasn't sarcastic! I sw-swear!"

"Heehee...We believe you."

"So hao about it?" Ben asked. "Think you can take some time out of your busy superhero schedule to join us on the Sabbath?"

"With every fiber of my being..." Courtney smiled. "It _is_ a Commandment, after all."

"Heh. The Lord's. Not ours."

"And we're not gonna try talking you into spreading the message about our congregation with that team of yours..." Ben shook his head. "We like to preach—not advertise."

"Heheh...I'm very thankful..." Courtney nodded. "You have no idea."

"We'd be honored to have you join us..."

"The honor's all mine." Courtney leaned forward. "So... ...Who's the pastor's name?"

Ben immediately snickered.

Courtney raised an eyebrow. "I don't get it..."

Lindsey slumped down in her seat, half-hiding behind the table. "Eheh...His name is Pastor Heathcliffe Eugene... ...Uhm..." She blushed. "...H-He's my dad."

"... ... ... ..." Courtney blinked. She suddenly giggled.

Ben and Lindsey joined her, and the laughter shook off the last drops of rain.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Later that afternoon—before sunset—Courtney was still chuckling, her lips sore from a constant, uppity smile—when she walked through the door to the Bunker, and straight into the broad metal chest of Cyborg.

"There you are! For all that is holy, girl!"

Courtney blinked, her blonde hair a dried, stringy mess. "... ... ...do you microphone bug Gazebos?"

"What?"

"N-Nothing. Uhm..." Courtney bit her lip and demurely clutched a rattail of frazzled, dry hair like a ragdoll. "...did y-you need me for something?"

"Dang straight I needed you! I needed all of the team!" He was frowning, but was too energized with a deep and unnamed enthusiasm to bother raising his voice above a mere growl. "Didn't you get my page? I hailed your communicator about a billion dayum times! Imagine hao I felt when I stumbled upon the dang thing inside the bathroom!"

"... ... ...It wasn't _inside_ the toilet when I left it, was it?"

"Where were you, girl?"

"Well, there was this thunderstorm, and I had my jogging shoes on, and someone with a lot of freckles—_And I do mean a **lot**_ _of freckles—_And I-"

"Never mind that!" Cyborg gripped her shoulder and all but dragged Courtney across the length of the Bunker. "Jump into your gear! We've got a mission to do!"

"A m-mission?" Courtney stammered, struggling to keep up with him. "Wh-What kind of mission...?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Robin got an anonymous tip barely two hours ago..." Cyborg spoke, pacing across the Phaser Labs briefing room and highlighting a northeastern splotch on the map. "...in almost _**an hour**_, no less, there's going to be a meeting. We're not entirely sure what kind of meeting—or what it's going to be about—only that this is _the Big One_."

"The Big One...?" Beast Boy blinked. Courtney sat down beside him, fastening on her facemask. The green metamorph cackled: "Either World War Three is about to go down or Chris Farley's come back from the dead."

"Save it for tonight's celebrations, grass stain."

"Is this the same Cyborg who grumbled at us yesterday?"

"Hell yeah." Vic smirked. "And proud of it—All our hard work is paying off. The Dead Men and the Neon Hand are meeting up—And we're gonna plant an ear in to listen to what they've got to say."

"Hao are we doing to go about doing this?" Starfire asked.

Vic turned towards the blue-haired sorceress. "Raven. You'll be teleporting into the room next to where the meeting is taking place. Your empathic abilities should be able to cancel anyone's chance of sensing your presence."

She raised a violet eyebrow. "Is that a guess or a command?"

"But it's not enough for you to just listen in like a fly on the wall..." Cyborg said. He hoisted a recording device with a microphone in his grasp. "We need someone else to teleport in with you, Raven, and record the meeting. I've fashioned this thing to hear a pindrop through a three foot solid wall. But the two of you still need to get _close_."

"Hao fun..." Raven droned.

"Then you will go with her, Cyborg?" Starfire questioned. "Since you have crafted together the recording device?"

"I have to stake out the area..." He shook his head. "Only with my sonar detection can I monitor the site and make sure none of the gang members make any unplanned moves. I gotta do that from the roof. I can't do the recording with Raven. So I need a volunteer-"

Courtney's hand was up before she knew it. "I'll do it."

Cyborg blinked at her. "Oh...?"

"I can fuse my Cosmic Converter belt to your recorder." She beamed. "It'd boost the quality and give it backup juice."

"Let's just hope you don't have to suddenly go bionic-woman on anybody at a moment's notice..." Beast Boy muttered. "You'd be dead meat."

Courtney shrugged. She still felt warm and toasty inside. "I've had hot chocolate."

"Say what?"

"Erm...eheheheh..." She giggled. "Forget I said anything."

Raven blinked from her back to Victor. "Uh...**She** is my partner?"

"It's done." Cyborg nodded in swift finality. "Raven and Stargirl will listen in on the gang—I'll keep a sonar watch on the area. Starfire, B.B.—you two get ready to leap in if things go to Hell."

"Where are we going, exactly?" Koriand'r asked.

"An apartment in the Northern District. Robin's there right nao—marking the place. Already half the people scheduled to meet there have assembled."

"When do we go, dude?"

"Pffchaa—Are you kidding?" Cyborg pounded both fists on the tabletop. "**Nao!**"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The blanket of night fell over a dissipating thunder cloud. A string of starlight glittered off the bodies of five heroes in rapid flight—rendezvousing with the Boy Wonder atop a lone rooftop.

"You're late..." He muttered from the icy shadows, his cape flapping in the still-moist wind.

Cyborg touched down as a green pterodactyl let go of him with thick talons. "I'm fashionably badass."

"If you say so. The meeting's about to start. Who's Raven taking?"

"Me." Stargirl touched down. "Vic, I'm gonna need help with-"

"Gotcha, girl." Cyborg eagerly fished the recording device out and worked with Courtney as the two attached wires from it to her cosmic converter belt. "You're gonna have to ditch the rod, though. No need letting your sunshine alert the thugs to your eavesdropping."

"Way ahead of you." She retracted the Cosmic Rod and slid it in the inside of her belt before expertly fumbling with the wires. "If we double the frequency of my energy matrix, it should power the device without making too much of a noise."

"Why _does_ it make a noise, anyway?"

"It was built for outer space. Sound wasn't an issue there."

"Gotta work on that... ...I could make some modifications for you..."

"Hehehehe...Vic, since when did you build things that _didn't_ make ungodly amounts of deadly **sound**?"

"Since I stopped building gadgets for the Hell of it and started working to craft the right stuff for this team."

"And you're a good craftsman, Victor..." Stargirl smiled warmly. "Just like your father."

"... ... ..." Victor glanced briefly at her, then back at the wiring job between them. "Stargirl..._Courtney..._I'm sorry for snapping at you the other night. It was..." He sighed briefly. "... ...It wasn't _professional_."

"You were upset, Vic. You've been running into so many dead ends—_**We've**_ been running into so many dead ends..."

"Still, I'm supposed to support y'all, not kick you when we're down—And certainly not to bite your head off when you're only trying to defend me and-"

"Victor..." Stargirl paused in her ministrations to gently grip his wrists with her gloved hands. She looked up at him, smiling. "I forgive you. Nao would you forgive me?"

His human eye blinked. "...for what?"

"For being a doofus klutz who didn't know when to keep her mouth shut..." A giggle. "Sometimes, when I get angry and frustrated, I don't know when to stop talking—Even if it's for the best of intentions, like defending what you're doing here... ...And what you're doing in this City is amazing, Victor."

"Heh, we haven't done anything yet..." He returned to the wires. "This night may be just another dead end-"

"And even if it is... ...I believe, Vic. I believe in **you**. I believe in **us**." She smiled.

"... ... ..." He gazed back and forth from the wires to her, his cheeks slightly warm. "So what popped a pot of gold at your end of the rainbow this morning?"

"Heeheehee..."

"Our resident blonde takes off, without a single dayum communicator, and goes swimming laps around the Park in a thunderstorm, all by herself—What gives?"

"I'm sorry about the 'no communicator' part..." She strung a blonde thread over her ear, fidgeted, shrugged. "I just... ...needed to go for a jog... ...go out into the world... ... ...try and listen for the voice of God..."

"Heh, alright." Cyborg smirked and put the finishing touches on the wirings. "And did He speak to you?"

"... ... ...Yeah..." She nodded breathily. "... ...Yeah, I believe He did." A swallow. "But not in the way that you would expect."

"I've learned not to expect much from Him. Not that I turned my back or anything—Just my own version of Faith."

"Not a bad kind of faith...if you think about it..." Stargirl smirked.

"_Cyborg. It's starting..."_ Robin's voice throated professionally from the dark distance of the rooftop.

"It's showtime." Cyborg placed the recorder in Stargirl's palm. "Know hao to use this thang, right?"

"I said I was a klutz, not a moron."

"Right. Try not to let Raven suck your blood."

"_Oh, that's realllll original."_

"Shuddup and do your portal thang already!" Cyborg all but shoved Stargirl into the sorceress' blue folds. The two huddled together as the rest of the heroes looked on. "And remember..." A grin. "We ain't that far away. Your safety means the most to us."

"I know, Vic..." Stargirl nodded. "I'm not scared."

"I'll be sure to quote you on that." Raven furled her cape and swallowed them both up in her icy soul self.

"_Ackies-!_" Stargirl gasped, drowning.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**FWOOSH!**_

The two girls materialized in a musty, abandoned bedroom...the floor littered with dead insects and wall paint chips. Stargirl teetered a bit, found her bearing, and gazed through the dissipating black energy to see Raven.

The sorceress raised a silencing finger before her pale lips, motioned towards the flanking wall, and glided towards it.

Stargirl silently slinked over—quiet as a feather—and switched the recorder on. The device gently whurred in her lap as she squatted down besides Raven's frame and aimed the microphone towards the wall... c

...and captured the muffled voices from beyond.

Patiently...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**Without a doubt, what Raven and I did that night was the most important step in our team's entire Jump City 'legacy'. But to describe the situation as tense or suspenseful would be incorrect. I was nearly bouncing in my seat. And it wasn't so much that I was excited about the prospect of finally exposing the Underworld—but rather I had been sailing a grand, neverending high the entire night, as could be expected...**

"**It's like that sensation someone gets from spending all day on a boat, traveling upstream, navigating the currents and waves of an opening Bay—and then that someone goes to bed that night, and in her mind she's still on that lone boat, bobbing weightlessly in the darkness, dancing off to a silent womb of slumber and dizzying enchantment.**

"**For the entirety of the mission, my mind was in one place, and in one moment, arms spread and flying in place under the rickety wooden shade of a gazebo, navigating the icy knives of horizontal rain, daring the deluge to do its worse, and coming out warmer than the tip of Mt Ararat after Noah's Flood. I heard Lindsey's giggles in my left ear, and Ben's chuckles in my right. Somewhere in the middle—a million miles away from where Raven hovered—I remembered what it meant to be happy, in spite of everything, in spite of nothing, just _to be happy—_for the absurd challenge that one faces when trying to be happy—that Sisyphusal hike against gravity, that crazy determination that made Abraham climb Mt Moriah to kill his only son with full faith that Isaac would live through it.**

"**The Voice of God rarely reaches us in pews, from pulpits, or through the stained glass windows. Sometimes you gotta take the plunge through the self-righteous veil of your own despondence, to let your ears pop from the pressure of a great flood of confusion, before you can come to the surface and remember what it's like to _hear_ at all—And it means forgetting to presume that everyday's song is the same somber melody, and that the chorus can change, if you just tread water for a momentary breath, waiting for it.**"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

On the sidewalk before the Jump City Police Department Headquarters, Cyborg held up a miniature speaker and attached it to the recording device. He played—echoing to the building face—a chunk of audio featuring several dozen voices—Dead Men and Neon Hand voices—and all of them richly detailed in full, crisp clarity.

He stopped the recording, gestured to Robin, said something, then motioned towards a distant spot in the Northern District. Robin nodded, added with a verbal factoid of his own, and gestured once more to the machine.

Then silence upon silence; both men stared quietly at the man standing across from them.

Detective Decker exhaled a puff of smoke. He held the recorder in his hand, stared at it, glanced at Robin, then Cyborg, then at the recorder. A groan, a shrugging of the shoulders, and he nodded. He flicked his cigarette to the sidewalk below, grinded it with a boot, said something slurringly, and took a copy of the recording from Cyborg's hand before trudging up the marble steps and into the front entrance of the police headquarters.

Robin and Cyborg exchanged glances. They both looked skyward. Cyborg was grinning—grinning wide. He held a huge, metallic thumb's up.

On the rooftop above, Beast Boy let out a loud whoop—returning the thumb's up. Starfire giggled, her wrists excitedly clapping as she glanced at the others. Raven quietly perched on the edge, her lips pursed. A violet eye darted Stargirl's way.

Stargirl leaned against the cosmic rod, grinning gently down at the two young men, her blonde strands kicking in the starlight...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 15th, 2004)**

Victor excitedly paced before the monitor in the briefing room, highlighting various blips and bits of data from the audio recording. Robin assisted in translating various quotations and strings of dialogue—outlining the whose-who of the Dead Men and the Neon Hand.

Koriand'r raised her hand and asked a question. Victor gladly answered, flickering forth an image of the Northern District and highlighting areas as he made connections to locations mentioned in the recording.

Garfield scratched his fuzzy head and glanced aside at Raven. The dark girl was leaning forward with sudden interest, her chin resting daintily on folded fingers. In the corner of the room, leaning back and tapping a pen rhythmically against her braces, Courtney listened, listened, listened—and took notes.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 16th, 2004)**

Courtney flew across the metal laced training room—past the freshly patched hole from the machine Koriand'r had smashed. The Star Spangled Kid dodged laser blasts from various floating spheres, twirled with her cosmic rod, and knocked them back towards the floor.

Dr. Ray flinched, controlling the devices from a remote device. As an explosion lit up a few feet from him, he glanced aside at Victor and chuckled. Victor laughed, patted his shoulder, and sauntered over towards where Garfield and Starfire sparred in a red circle—giving them both coaching lessons.

In the far corner, Raven meditatively floated various metal shingles and platforms—While the Boy Wonder perched, headstand'd, and kicked off every one of them. Raven made it more challenging for him, throwing metal hoops and zig-zags his way, but he navigated them all with the greatest of ease, challenging himself, improving himself—and challenging her.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 17th, 2004)**

People gasped and trembled as the black telekinetic platform lifted them from the burning apartment and onto a safe rooftop across the way. In the bright, shimmering daylight—Stargirl flew, a little girl safely tucked under her arm. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Starfire carrying another family from the towering inferno, then Cyborg and a green gorilla leaping from another rooftop—carrying between them a severed watertower. Once everyone was cleared out, the two young superheroes tipped the cylindrical tower over, dumping its watery contents over the blazes, extinguishing a good half of the flames just as the flickering lights of the fire department approached from far below.

Stargirl touched down on the opposite rooftop, besides clusters of families murmuring thanks and prayers, huddled together. She let the girl go and ruffled the little one's hair, giving a word of encouragement—when she was suddenly engulfed in a hug by the trembling child. Stargirl blinked from under her mask, then smiled—giving the girl a tender hug back. A few blinks later, and a mother rushed over, gasping. The little girl charged into her arms, and the mother scooped her up, squeezing her. She glanced over at Stargirl with a tearful face, murmured two words, and huddled off with the child to rejoin her relocated household.

The Star Spangled Kid remained kneeling. She glanced across the way in time to see Robin swing over to a stop on the rooftop via grappling hook. He called over to a family. Two twin boys glanced over in time to beam with happiness. They ran over just as the Boy Wonder knelt and offered a dazed black cat into their embrace. They cradled the small animal, joyfully cooing its name, reunited.

Robin merely saluted, stood up, and hovered in the corner of the festive gaggle of rescued souls, keeping a watchful, eyemask'd gaze on the whole lot of them.

Stargirl gazed at the sight, at him. She clutched tighter to the cosmic rod, closed her eyes—his outline against the skyline burned briefly against her lids...

And she smiled...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 18th, 2004)**

Sunday night.

Courtney finished dressing in her blouse and skirt. She tightened her left 'foot', slipped on her dress shoes, and stood up. Fishing up her purse and Bible, she left the concrete confines of her quarters and strolled down the length of the Bunker.

She gazed briefly to the side and did a double-take.

Cyborg was not in his laboratory. Robin was not on an investigation. Raven was not nose-deep in a book. Instead, the three of them sat on the sofa while Garfield stood in front of an inert laptop, a black top hat in his grasp as he motioned for Koriand'r to reach a hand in. The Tamaranian girl did so, hesitantly. Garfield chatted a melodramatic storm, until Koriand'r's hand came out, grasping a deck of cards. She blinked her green eyes quizzically at them, then back at the green elf.

Garfield grinned, winked, then whipped out a wand with his free hand and lightly _tapped_ Koriandr's wrist. The deck of playing cards unfolded, turned over, and became a bundle of plastic roses. Garfield exhaled two prolonged syllables with a bow-

-just as Koriand'r shrieked at the suddenly appearing flora and zapped them with a burning starbolt. A puff of flame, and Garfield yelped as he forced himself to stamp out the flames in his top hat.

Cyborg guffawed. Robin smirked. Even Raven managed a chuckle laugh or two.

"... ... ..." Courtney's fingers curled around the strap of her purse. She took a warm breath, tongued the insides of her sore cheeks, and walked swiftly out the door to Phaser Labs...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**I am not just some mere superhero. I am a knight. And I serve my King with great humility and respect.**

"**I must remind myself of this everyday. And even if my friends don't serve in the same Court, I will still be there for them, always. They're there to support me, and I'm there to support them. And, before we all know it, we have a network going. Heck, it's more than a network—it's a _fellowship."_**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Courtney's blue eyes lit up as she was led through the South Central High gymnasium doors. The brightly lit interior shone over fifteen rows of erect folding chairs—nearly half of which were loudly filled to the brim with teenagers and young adults—all swaying and rocking to an even louder procession on a metal stage positioned in front of them and beneath the side of an indoor basketball court. A band was situated on the right side of the low budget 'pulpit', half of which consisted of people no older than sixteen years old. Two electric guitars, a keyboard, and a drum assisted the praise and worship director in matching his microphone'd vocals to the lyrics broadcasted on a Powerpoint Presentation, projected against a pasty white screen atop the stage.

_'When will the world see that we need Jesus...'_ The room echoed with it; a different, warmer thunder than the type that hushed Courtney in the heart of a gazebo so many days ago.

"Didn't we say it was a 'happenin'' place?" Ben smirked back at Courtney as he and Lindsey led her deeper into the heart of the place. "You think this rocks—You should hear Lindsey's dad's sermons on abstinence!"

"_Bennnnn..."_

"Hehe—But seriously. He's anything but a snoozefest. It's not all about the music here at Bay Faith Assembly. But...rather than hear us ramble on about it, let's find you a seat, shall we?"

"And hao..." Courtney blinked, a bit overwhelmed—even in a space barely one fourth the size of Jump City Summit. She glanced forlornly about, her eyes darting over Ben's t-shirt and jeans—then Lindsey's sweater and shorts. "I...erm..." She fidgeted in her blouse and skirt. "...I-I'm kinda overdressed, I th-think."

Lindsey giggled and leaned in to speak above the righteous noise. "Hey, it's your first time. And syriously, who cares? Hao you wish to present yourself before God is your choice."

"One step at a time, I guess..." Courtney's voice spoke above the volume. She craned her head and gestured towards the left of the 'pulpit'. "Is that Pastor Eugene?"

"Yup..." Lindsey exhaled, glancing at a short man with slick black hair framing a bald spot. "In all his middle-aged glory. If he stopped praying for the North Charity Fund—maybe he could fit in a prayer or two for God to fill his cap back up."

"'North Charity Fund'?"

"OH! Silly me..." Lindsey blushed. "It's one of the things that Bay Faith is famous for-"

"If you would call it 'fame'-"

"Hush, Ben. Ahem. It's a fundraiser we have for the families living in the poorer neighborhoods of the North District of Jump City. Ever since we got this place to assemble weekly at South Central High, we've been trying to set up a Safe House just north of the L-Track on Fifteenth and Brandon. It's kind of like a Salvation Army thing—only it's funded through the church..."

"Oh yeah?"

"More than half of our tithe goes to it. Pastor Paxton—dad's partner in evangelism—is managing the thing. He hopes to have a North Branch of Bay Faith there to act as an outreach center for the local families and children."

Courtney smiled. "Sounds like a righteous mission if I ever heard one."

"You and your friends do what you can for the City—so why can't we?" Lindsey smirked. "We've already gotten enough together to feed half a tenement—And people have started cleaning up the streets. It's slow-going, but we hope to make a difference-"

"Hey Lindsey!" A young man in gothic apparel stumbled up, smiling. "There you are! Did you get my e-mail?"

"Oh yeah! Thanks—I _totally_ forgot about the printouts. Thanks a bunch!"

"Hey, no problem, girl. Pastor's daughter can only balance so many things."

"Like what?" Courtney blinked curiously.

"Oh...I work with fundraising, the high school prayer club, the newsletter-"

"All on your own?"

"Why not? It's what I like to do."

"We've got a newcomer?" The heavily pierced teenager grinned.

"Nnnngh—Where's my _head_ today?" Lindsey rolled her eyes. "Vinnie, this is Courtney. She's new to Bay Faith—a visitor."

"Is she the one you and Ben met the other day in the monsoon at the park?"

"Erm..." Lindsey bit her lip. "Yyyyyyyeah..."

"She's got a familiar face..." 'Vinnie' squinted.

Courtney fidgeted. "If you say Hannah Montana, I'll baptise you in a water fountain."

"AND she's ordained! Hao nice." Vinnie smirked.

Another teenage boy wandered up. "What's up? We've been waiting-"

"My bad, Greg." Vinnie chuckled and waved to the three. "Gotta jet. It's been nice meeting you, Courtney."

Courtney smiled back. "It's been nice...meeting... ... you... ... ...too..." She blinked, her lips trailing.

As Vinnie and the other boy walked away, their hands were joined...intimately. They wandered over to group of praise-and-worshiping youngsters, many of them also in like-pairs.

"They're... ..." Courtney blinked. "They're both-"

Lindsey cautiously leaned in. "Does... ...Does th-that bother you...?"

"Erm..."

"You wouldn't be the only one." Ben said with a calm smile. "It's not something we announce to everyone who attends for the first time."

"I... ..." But Courtney merely shrugged with a blank expression. "I-I only feel as though _it should_ _be _b-bothering me..."

"We're not going to trounce upon your own personal convictions, Courtney." Lindsey gestured towards the minority within the majority. "But, the way we see it, if Jesus unabashedly ate and fellowship'd with prostitutes and tax collectors, teaching them the Word of God without remorse—Then who are we, His disciples, to regard _any _of God's children with a thicker bias?"

Courtney spoke: "He also hung out with prostitutes and tax collectors to _convert them_ from their sinful ways..."

"Right..." Ben smiled. "But did he share Communion with them any less?"

"Why not bask in the Word of God with _**all**_ of your brothers and sisters...?" Lindsey said. "...and let the conviction of the soul be between _that person_ _and God?"_

Courtney took a deep, brave breath. "Christ loved the world too much to _not _touch it with His presence..." She looked warmly at her two new friends. "I guess, if I wanna be like Him, I shouldn't let anything scare me away from sharing Fellowship, huh?"

"Perhaps." Ben shrugged and patted Courtney's shoulder. "But just like you said—One step at a time, right?"

"Yeah..." Courtney breathed, a little braver still. "Yeah. R-Right..."

Lindsey beamed. She motioned ahead of her. Courtney followed. The three found their seats halfway towards the front—right in the thick of things—where Courtney could be most hidden and most exposed at the same time. Halfway through a forest of light; and she felt comfortable enough to shake off the shivers of her own trepidation, bask in the warmth of singing voices around her, and take a leap of faith.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, swam in the music—a delightful drowning—and she raised her hands up, fingertips warmed in the kiss of heaven, singing with it...

...to Him.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**Pastor Eugene didn't say a thing about Job, or his suffering, or his rags and ashes. He did, haoever, speak of Thomas—_Doubting Thomas—_and his initial refusal to accept Christ as the risen Messiah after the Third Day. He said that Christ is still showing his wounds to the world—day by day—in our daily lives, to remind us of the price that He paid for all of us—for all of us to stay true to the two commandments that, above all else, matter the most.**

"**And one is to love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your mind. And the second is to love others as you love yourself. And as long as you've got that squared away—between yourself and God, and yourself and others—then everything else doesn't matter, it's all squared away, there's no need for war, there's no need for fear, and there's no need for hate.**

"**Of course, we don't live in a perfect world—and it is certainly not devoid of these things. But if there's anything that the wounds of Christ remind my doubting soul—it's that we're to strive to be perfect, as He is perfect—an impossible act in of itself, but all the more worth attempting.**

"**I will never be perfect, but so long as I strive for it, and confront my doubts—even acknowledging them—then I think I can manage to avoid the sickness that I've been feeling in my gut, the unnerving sense that there are people on this planet that I'm meant to detest, that there are things that are so beyond salvation that I'm not allowed to share Christ's love and compassion with everything I find or see.**

"**With each passing day, I'm learning new and startling ways to humble myself. It's making me a better person. And—I hope—it's making me a better superhero. Sometimes you just have to let yourself collapse before you can trust yourself to be structurally sound for the Eternity to come."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 19th, 2004)**

_Schwissh!_

Koriand'r wandered out of the bathroom. It was late at night. Everyone else was in their quarters—sleeping or otherwise, except for Robin—who was out on a beat. The orange-skinned girl was in the prolonged effort of drying her thick, crimson hair. She hummed an alien tune and padded softly into the Common room, where Courtney squatted at the kitchen table over a plateau of homework.

"G-Greetings and felicitations, friend Courtney!" Koriand'r beamed, spreading her arms and proudly boasting the overcompensatingly large t-shirt she was engulfed in. "Am I most fabulously _clothed_ in the tradition of Terran etiquette? Heeheehee—Oh, I do believe I may get used to this hourly habit. If anything, I can practice all forms of earthling fashion, can I not?"

Courtney looked up. She smiled. "I'm gl-glad for you, Star. I'm sure the boys would be missing out-"

"The boys?"

"Sorry-" Courtney bit her tongue. "Bad joke..."

A breath of silence...

The blonde fidgeted, biting her lip. She slowly stood up from the table, shuffling across the way. She walked quietly towards the Tamaranian, her head bowed. Finally, when Courtney got within the crux of Koriand'r's vision, she murmured:

"Kory... ... ...I like to think of you as my friend..."

"Oh, but you too are my dearest friend, Courtney..." Koriand'r blinked at her with suddenly concerned eyes. "Whatever is the matter?"

"N-Nothing's the matter..." Courtney murmured. "I'm just...wondering if you would d-do me a favor...?"

"Anything, Courtney."

The blonde looked up, her eyes round. "Would y-you hold me... ... ...For a j-just a little while...?"

"... ... ..." Koriand'r slumped the wet towel across the back of the sofa and immediately opened her arms. Courtney drifted in and clutched ahold of the alien redhead. She leaned her head against the teenager's shoulder and very gently, very softly, began sobbing. Starfire's lips pursed. She felt Courtney's heart beat against her own, the channels of emotions—and finally, after weeks of bottling them in herself, of trying to fit in, Koriand'r held the blonde companion close to her, leaned her head aside hers, and gently cried herself.

The two swayed there, sharing warmth, sharing tears...for as long as it took for both of them to lose the weight of the last few months...

As they so desperately needed...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"**I was smiling—most of the time—while I cried in Starfire's arms. I was smiling because I knew that she knew—that we both knew—that it was all we needed to do, that it's what the rest of the team needed to do, and still need to do, even though they won't admit to the need to cry, to crumble, to let emotions burst out of the bottle for once in a blue moon. Because Tamaranians are more right then they are wrong, and sometimes a gentle, long, heartfelt sob is all it takes to clean the pipes, to clear the dam, to wash away all the gritty angst and petty emotions of a job done so well that for a long time coming it looks so awful.**

"**Victor has a dream—a very fantastic dream—and on some nights, digesting too hard the slings and arrows of misfortune—that dream occasionally resembles a nightmare. But all things come and go, and we stand upon the very threshhold of something indescribably amazing, righteous, and joyful.**

"**I write to you nao, not because you asked me to, but because you must know what this is, what this team has become, what it intends to be, and all the hope it promises to deliver, as it has been delivering, even if a choice few people in this City doesn't want to see the work that we've done, and the work we can do in the future.**

"**These are, without a doubt, the happiest and most glorious days of my life. And I can't wait to see what our future holds—with its ups as well as its downs—because it is more than just a mere plan, a fantastic dream, it is destiny—it is what we are built for, and I cannot—in words or in numbers—even begin to count my blessings."**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 20th, 2004)**

"Any minute nao..." Victor muttered, hunched over in the corner of a dark alleyway. He gazed out on the empty lengths of Fifth Street—the yawning heights of St Faustina Cathedral. "... ...the first time they decided to use our Town as a delivery route, they blew up a gas station and nearly murdered a young woman. But nothing of the sort tonight—not on my watch."

"What are the chances that we're leaning too much on the things said in the recorded meeting...?" Raven squinted from where she hushedly levitated a few feet above. "They must know we're onto them. This could be a set up."

"I dunno, precious—What are the chances you're just a _huge-ass buzzkill?"_ Victor hissed.

"Be easy on her, Cyborg..." Stargirl stood next to Starfire on a balcony, clutching the cosmic rod. "It's only smart to be a little wary."

"I don't want any second thoughts to hold us back..." Cyborg muttered aloud. "Not tonight. That's why I told Robin to take point on the Cathedral top. We're sending our best in first."

"You hold a great deal of faith in him, don't you?"

"Sure, why not..." Cyborg stared out into Fifth Street, speaking over his shoulder. "Don't you, Spangle?"

"Yes." Starfire spoke up. "She **does**."

The blonde blinked at the redhead. The redhead looked back...then smirked. Both girls inexplicably fell into an air of nervous giggles—Stargirl blushing like mad.

"Quiet-!" Cyborg murmured. "I hear them coming." He popped open a communicator panel in his forearm. "Everyone maintain your position. Wait for my signal. Move as we planned."

Stargirl slid over to Starfire's side. "Pssst...Kory..."

"Yes, Stargirl?"

"Hao are you feeling?"

She took a deep breath. "As if I am lot lighter since the last time I escaped your planet Jupiter's gravity well."

"So... ... ...You feel better...?"

"-Than I have in days..." Koriand'r nodded. "As do you, I take it."

"Yeah... ... ...You think so?"

"No. I **know** so..." Koriand'r smiled hushedly. "If only all Terrans could embrace life like you."

"_Wait for it..."_

Stargirl smirked back at her. "What if I've just been lucky? Maybe this is a fluke of mania."

"No, you have too much faith to believe in _the flukes_, Stargirl."

"You think?"

"Would you like me to prove you wrong?"

"I feel like doing something I haven't done in ages."

"And what is that?"

"Cooking." Stargirl smiled. "Hao would you like to try out an earth meal called 'chicken and rice'?"

Starfire giggled. "Sounds most intriguing. I am—as Beast Boy would say—the game for that!"

"_Will you two get a sitcom already...?"_

"And you can provide the seasoning, Raven. You're good at that."

"Hee hee hee..."

"_Nghh—What am I even doing here-?"_

"**NOW!"** Cyborg shouted into the communicator and bounded out into Fifth Street. **"GO!"**

"Oh right...This charade..." Raven floated out...followed by Starfire...

Followed by Stargirl...

Followed by a smile.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 21th, 2004)**

"**One way or another, everything comes full circle. It's sometimes a glorious thing, sometimes a hectic thing. One thing's for sure—I'll be sure to write you next time things _do_ come around to a head once more. In the meantime, I'll try to keep note of more things that are bound to interest you—_REALLY_ interest you. But all those details about Robin's birdarangs, Starfire's starbolt energy, Raven's telekinesis, the way Beast Boy changes from a squirrel one second and then to an ox the next—I'm not really good at the Big Picture. It's the small things that matter to me, the things that make us tick. Maybe somehao you can respect that. In a roundabout way, it's what you have asked for, isn't it?**

"**That, is the question. Until the next time I write you. Yours in confidence and in trust..."**

**-Courtney Whitmore, Stargirl.**

She stopped her pen, dropped it, and rubbed her wrist. A deep breath, a slight curving of her lips, and she laid her head back against the pillow of her Bunker's sleeping quarters.

"... ... ... ..."

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, drifted, then groaned slightly as she sat herself up—leaned across a nearby table—and grabbed an envelope from the box of stationary. She folded the written pages in three places, slid them into the envelope, sealed it, then picked up the pen once more...drawing a single symbol on the envelope.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 22nd, 2004)**

That following morning...

In the waxing haze of a gray morning mist...

Stargirl flew over a dozen rooftops, diving low, and finally landing in an abandoned junkyard on the westernmost edge of the Northern Industrial District. She landed—boots making contact with the rubble-strewn yard. She glanced around, blinking rather forlornly at the hollowed out building to the north, a pile of rusted metal chassis to the south, and a delapidated chain-link fence to the west and east.

She took a deep breath, sauntered forward across the agreed-to site, and finally found what she was looking for:

A mailbox—remarkably well kept compared to the rest of the decaying scenery. She strolled up to the thing, opened the lid, and dutifully slid the envelope inside, closing the box behind. She lifted the red flag to the mailbox and took off, returning home to the Bunker in a lone flight, abandoning the envelope, nao obscured in darkness...

Across its white surface, no address, no return address—just one character and one character alone:

"**?**"


	9. A Tale of Two Dreams

**(April 22, 2004)**

"Nnngh—Fifth Street!" Robin shot up in a sweating gasp. "**The P-Pawn Shop**! Of course-..." He stopped in mid exclamation. His eyemask twitched. He glanced down at his sitting figure.

He was clad in his bed clothes, white t-shirt and black pants, sitting square on top of the table in the center of the Phaser Labs Briefing room—several floors _above_ the bunker.

He winced all over, then sneered—his teeth gnashing.

"Oh.. ...G-God _Dammit..."_

Grumbling, the costume-less Boy Wonder picked his tyred body up and stumbled through the automatic doors, heading back downstairs, his hung shadow of shame pierced only by a flight of sudden and impenetrable purpose.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Beeping... Beeping... Beeping... Beeping... Beeping...

The teenage girl with long chestnut hair laid in bed, still as stone—save for a continental drift of her lungs, rhythmically up and down, in slow and methodical waves.

Across the hospital room, all was silent—save for the constant electronic chirp of the EKG Machine. Shadows drifted across the room, bravely battling back the slow and gentle invasion of sunlight from the window beside the girl's bedframe.

In the thickest of the shadows—with the sluggish grace of a yawning venus fly trap—Raven emerged from a violet portal. Silent as a ghost's sigh, the sorceress touched her hovering toes down to the cold tile floor and stood in a gentle vigil besides the girl's bed.

"... ... ..."

Her violet eyes fell on the sight of the unconscious patient's face, her gentle shoulders—patched up in random places from a mending wound or two—the wires running from her forearm to the machines beside her.

Raven's lips pursed. A breath escaped her. She slowly...quietly drifted closer to the girl's bed. She raised a pale hand out from her robe and held it out—flat—a few centimeters above the patient's unconscious face.

The sorceress' fingertips twinged slightly in an obsidian glow, tendrils of microscopic sparks ebbing from one end of the palm to the other—as she performed her scan, and found what she was looking for.

For the briefest of breaths—the beeping quickened in pace.

Raven gasped, and immediately retreated her hand.

The beeping slowed, slowed, and resumed its lethargic—but steady meter.

Raven exhaled with relief. She gazed at the patient.

"... ... ... ..."

She gazed at the door leading to the rest of the hospital outside. She sensed the shuffling footsteps far beyond, the souls they belonged to, their persistent distance from the room in that particular hour...

Raven unfurled her robe, levitated backwards, and landed herself—cross legged—in a chair across the room from the patient's bed. She folded her hands in her lap, lowered her robe, and stared for a long time at the unconscious teenager. After a few quiet minutes, the afternoon's golden hue starting to scatter through the refracting glass window; she took a deep breath, bowed her chakra-glinting forehead, and closed her eyes.

Meditating...waiting...and serene.

And yet, as the minutes wore on, minutes that bled into hours; Raven attempted deeply to submerge into the placid waters of herself, but all the more fitfully found herself wading soul-deep in the tempest of the past...

And the murmurs bubbling chaotically therein:

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Three Months Ago)**

_They had reached a dead end. The metal walls of the alien dreadnaught stretched all around them, ending in impervious shadows, rusted and forboding. A cacophonous rise of heated breaths filled the place in a fitful, last second panic._

"_There has to be something we're missing here! Quick! Help me look for clues-!"_

"_Dammit, bird boy—This ain't the time to play detective! We've gotta punch walls down and ask questions later!"_

"_We can't afford to overlook something that could help us get to Koriand'r faster!"_

"_Like **what?** Time's wasting as you stop to think about **thinking!"**_

_Raven's brow furrowed. She hovered in the corner while everyone else squawked and grunted amongst themselves—A huge surge of confusion and frustration. Something hummed and lurched through the walls, a great generator burning hot from within, threatening to melt a City full of people. Beyond the walls—through the alien metal—she could see, no, she could feel a great tormented soul...burningly familiar. She wondered if she should say something, if she should speak up above the shouts of her inexplicable companions, if she should-_

_Someone tugged on her blue robe._

_She looked down, blinking curiously._

_He looked back up at her. Shades glistened black upon black. And beneath them, two orbs, the **blackest** of all-_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**Fl-FLash!**

Raven's hair billowed with obsidian energy. A pair of violet explosions, and she gasped, lurching forward-

But it was too late to stifle the jagged hiss of the moment. A bolt of telekinetic soul self had warbled forth through the small, cold hospital room—and it had immediately shaken a picture frame off the wall. The wooden square of landscape art fell six feet and landed with a clattering thud on the tile floor, shattering the silence of the room.

Raven winced, rolling her purple eyes back. She floated out of her seat, landed, knelt besides the frame, and reassembled it in her bare hands before standing up and stretching to hang the thing back up.

"... ... ..._R-Raven_...?"

The dark girl froze. She slowly pivoted around, an icy turn of the neck, her eyes falling twitchingly towards the hospital bed.

The teenager with chestnut brown hair was stirring. Her eyes, a thin horizon of what she once was—and a veiled hint of what she could be—stared at the chakra-stone'd girl intently from across the bed.

"... ..._is th-that you_... ...?"

Raven's eyes melted, a warm melting—And it spread through her features, erasing all signs of the frozen regality she had erected before five clumsy younglings who happened to share an underground Bunker with her across town. She shuffled over towards the bed, her limbs unfurling gently from the hidden confines of the blue robe as she gently, gently held the patient's hand...

...and smiled.

"H-Hello, Rali..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

One metal arm into a silken black sleeve. A second metal arm, same as the first. A stiffening of a collar. A vest buttoning up. Ten titanium fingers and a bow tie. A red glint answering the cold basement lights overhead-until those bulbs go out with a glance, then a shuffle, followed by an echoing march of weighted footsteps against subterranean concrete..

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Elevator music. Centripetal force. A bell noise, doors opening, cold echoing tile floor, then wide glass windows sliding wide into sunlight. A rush of air, then noise, then flash upon flash upon flash as a sea of chattering meat parted ways beneath a roaring highway overpass, aiming cameras like anti artillery guns. A limousine waited, a gloworm of reflected mania dancing across its black windows. A door opened, a blink of a woman's figure, sitting cross-legged, a studious gaze—and his widely suited girth necessarily blocked her out, before sealing them both away inside the aluminum sarcophagus on wheels—a coffin that rolled out of the gates of Phaser Labs and towards its downtown destination.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

A low, motorized hum. Random asphalt bumps in comprehending the soulless building faces blurring by and by and by and by. Chairperson Drew's murmuring voice, rivulets of seriousness in the depths of a sun-tinted pool. Metal fingers galloping across the armrest. A stiff collar. The sun's rays yawning sideways as the limousine turned down Main Street. A stiffer collar. The sound of a helicopter somewhere above the roof. Elsewhere a jackhammer cackled, a public bus sighed. Then Ms. Drew's sharp voice piercing through the brief shudder of the moment, in cadence with the bouncing wheels—a bobbing—and the ominous shadow of a regally tall skyscraper loomed ahead.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

A birdlike head turning of the masses. The epicenter of Jump City spinning, twirling,like a gunbarrel, white sparks of sporadic protestors flanking—bright signs with darkly markered disgust at the essence that this hybrid ambassador brought, carried, gravitated—his entourage sliding to a stop in the reining escort of several white helmeted guards; and the police swarmed outward—palms first—with the necessary authority to prepare space for his demigodly touchdown. An opening of the glossy black door, and one metal foot first—then a second—precariously sandwiched in shiny leather—as Victor Stone stood suited, tall and resolute before the destination of his summoning—one half of his skull catching the amber cascade of a waning afternoon Sun—the other half reflecting the white flashes of ravenous press. A last muttering utterance to Nancy, who stepped out to flank him—and the boy-who-would-be-Jump-City-prince marched proudly forward towards the revolving jaws of the place, a temporary placard above woefully proclaiming: **'Headquarters of Kobayashi Corporation'**.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_We interrupt this broadcast for a special update on the Kobayashi – Stone situation. According to reports, Victor Stone and Stone Industries Chairperson Nancy Drew have just arrived at Placid Towers—the living quarters and temporary base of operations for Kensuke Kobayashi's enterprise until the construction of Kobayshi Tower is complete. Mr. Stone and Ms. Drew were seen arriving at the complex via limousine barely an hour ago. With more details on this possible meeting, we go nao—live in the field—to Kelly Hampton. Kelly?"_

"_Thanks, Merilyn. When Mr. Stone arrived, I stood amongst over fifty reporters who all confronted him with a barrage of questions—But neither he nor Ms. Drew had any comment to give us. As a matter of fact, Merilyn, they seemed pretty hasty to make their way up onto the thirtieth floor and meet with Mr. Kobayashi-san. As you can see behind me, it is a media frenzy here—coupled by various groups of Jump City protestors who, judging by their signs, are none too pleased with the idea of superhuman vigilantes staking a foothold in our town. All around me, the air is tense with a breath of deep curiosity—There's no telling what we're going to hear from the meeting that's going on today-"_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**DING!**

The doors opened up, revealing Victor's emotionless face. Before him stretched the twentieth story of Placid Towers; it was a shiny, crystalline palace of a floor—with ornate fountains built into the wall's frameworks, so that rivulets of springwater babbled and billowed through transparent floorboards and window frames—beyond which a gorgeous, glistening City stretched lazily under a setting sun, casting its spotlight across the Son of Stone and his spotless business attire.

The young half-a-man lumbered forth, his metal joints trying their best to keep groaning to a minimum as they shifted and swayed under dark silk slacks and neatly pressed threads. Ms. Drew shuffled out alongside him, dressed just as darkly as he was—in a long skirt of mahogany that complimented her ebony cascade of hair. Sunglass'd escorts employed by Kobayashi, who flanked the two managers of Stone Industries, wore onyx business suits as they surveyed the lavish interior just as they did the entire lengths of the trip up there, palming earpieces that squabbled security commands into their skulls—dutifully squabbling back as they shuffled forth.

"Dayum..." Victor exhaled through granite nostrils as he limped on. "Even when the old man died, there were less people in black." Beneath a shuddering breath. "Someone give me a bell to ring for after I'm buried..."

"Save your melodrama for when you're playing Rock 'em Sock 'em with purse snatchers in the dark..." Nancy muttered, plinking away at her ever-trusty PDA. "We're fashionably early by about forty minutes. Let's make the best of it..."

"Or let's order a pizza, with extra cyanide-" The laughably garbed Cyborg motioned his metal head towards a thick crowd of business associates and financial 'family' members that were flanking the doorframe to an Olympian office at the far end of the crystalline office space, like the closed jaws to a translucent dragon. "Looks like we're just in time for the lighting of the torch, and when I say 'lighting' I mean **kicking** and when I say 'torch' I mean my sweet metal Denzel Washington hind quarters."

"It's rumored that Mr. Kobayashi is a night owl." Chairperson Drew walked along him and droned on. "The fact that he's seeing you at sunset means that this meeting is a precursor to his breakfast."

"Well alright..." A slight hint of a grin on Victor's face—a tiny one. "Then if there's any good news to this afternoon, it's that Kobayashi-san wants to get this whole thing over with just as quickly as I do."

"Don't count on it." Nancy looked boredly over at the Stone Industries' heir. "Stay focused. Stay polite. Remember what we talked about."

"And yet—Don't hand him the can opener to my wallet at the drop of a hat..."

"The **_company's_** wallet—You're here to apologize, Mr. Stone. Not bend over."

"Is this a legal meeting or a physical?"

"Be apologetic, be humble, but don't be stupid when it comes to appeasing this most generous entrepreneur. I'm serious."

"So am I, Nancy..." Victor exhaled as the two came upon the event horizon of the affluently dressed riff raff. The businessmen—affordable lackeys of Mr. Kobayashi—all stood still at a sudden attention, as if this humble teenager in penance was a formal dignitary from an embattled kingdom. Half of the company nodded, the other half bowed. Victor gestured back with no less aplomb, but didn't slow his movement in the least as he headed towards the ivory door and its silverish handles glistening before him. "I'm very serious." He murmured, not sure if Nancy was still close enough alongside him to hear. "As much as my father ever was." A sigh, to himself, more than anything. "I realize that nao..."

"Remember..." Ms. Drew spoke over his shoulder as she stood still on the edge of no return, watching him march into his destiny. "As bad as it could possibly get, only **you** can make it worse."

"Yeah, **thanks**." He throated. "Just make sure that PDA you're going out with is using protection..."

"Hrmph..." Her lips curved ever so slightly as she watched her boss be her boss.

Only a dozen feet nao. Victor counted them in his head—a skull that was capable of trillions of mathematical calculations per second—so that the final stretch took an eon to consume itself. Out the corner of his human eye, he caught a porcelain smile. He glanced over—to see Madeline in a dark green dress glancing back, her graceful hand petting the mange of a faithful seeing-eye-dog. She craned her skull Victor's way, her lips pursing in a perfect timing with the young man's motorized circulatory system, and she smiled beneath her glistening sunglasses before waving a gentle hand, a last second blessing.

Victor smiled back, turned forward, and was almost nose to nose with the wide—white doors. He stopped icily in his tracks, clearing his throat.

There was no turning back now.

Metal hands raised and gently—earnestly—knocked at the office door.

Silence. Deaffening. Permeating—for fifteen seconds, and then the ivory framework swished open—revealing the unnervingly plastic face of Mr. Kobayashi's personal translator, followed even more unnervingly by his twice plastic smile.

"Mr. Stone-san. Just in time. Mr. Kobayashi-san is expecting you."

"Whew. Cuz if he was expecting a singing telegram, I'd shatter this lovely glass floor with my tap-dancing." Victor chuckled helplessly, bounced off the translator's confusedly deadpan face, and stumbled into the room before the sky could fall through the skyscrape and impale him.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_Let'sdothisthangLet'sdothisthangLet'sdothisthang..."_

Victor murmured under his breath as he shuffled to a stop, standing straight at attention like a Cuban dissident before a firing squad. He opened his lips to say something—but suddenly held back, his human eye liquidly bouncing about the sweaty edges of his right socket—waiting for the shadow of the host to make the first move.

As prophecied, the translator closed the double white doors behind Victor, shuffled across the sweetly flourished office room with agonizing slowness—feet tapping hauntingly against the crystalline tile—and he then approached a thin, dark figure that stood with his back to a rich cedar desk before a wide stretch of Sun-kaleidoscoping windows.

A flurry of Japanese words—hushed but firm—and the translator ended his announcement into the shadowy figure's ear with "-...the most esteemed Victor Stone, son of Silas Stone, sir." A bowing of the head, and a gesture of the arms—and the shadowy figure pivoted like an oaken turnstile until he was no longer so shadowy, but instead a middle aged man with gray streaks reinforcing silk smooth black hair above a pair of kindly rich, age-saturated almond eyes.

And a smile. An indiscernible, cryptic smile—soothing only in its promise of wisdom, and patience.

Until that voice spoke out—and Cyborg was reminded all too freshly of an angry and saliva hacking victim in the middle of Fifth Street—a voice that belonged to none other than Mr. Kensuke Kobayashi, the man whom Victor owed his politeness, a man whom Victor's team had nearly snapped in two at the drop of a hat.

A man who could kill Victor with a glare, but instead was smiling—and that and that alone stung like a fish knife, more painfully than the young Mr. Stone had fathomed to fathom.

"Ah...Victor-san...It is... ...agreeable to...see you."

Such quiet, gentle words—and yet the opposite end of the watery glass-framed office rolled in the obligatory thunder of the regal utterance.

Upon the threshhold of his team's future, his team's hope, and his team's stability—Victor Stone gulped, smiled, and ever so eloquently returned: "H-Hey, Mr. Kobayashi. Whazzup?" An eye-twitch, and then the teenager promptly slapped his metal forehead with an angry palm. _Cl-Clang!_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Meanwhile...

Across Jump City...

Along the rusted and decrepit northeast corner of Old Downtown, bordering the slums...

An otherwise abandoned twelve story building of brick and broken dreams stood tall, hunched, and humble amidst the urban malaise of forgotten architecture...

And yet, atop this worthless of worthless structures, billowing like a golden angel in the collapsing day's sunlight...

_Th-Thwp! _Robin ended his last swing with a forward flip. Cl-Clank! He landed squarely in a pair of deep boot imprints, left in a tell-tale spot on the edge of the apartment rooftop.

"... ... ..."

He stood up from the squat landing. Slowly, he stepped forward, forward—towards a wooden shed, shanty'd together in the center of the deserterd weather-stained rooftop. There were no windows to the shed, no cracks to let the light in, no fissures or signs of life. There was only one door—a rusted metal thing—and it had a large brass padlock on it.

Robin exhaled through his nostrils, going through the motions for the first time in months—but the millionth time in a lifespan. He flicked his green gloved wrist, produced a needle, and picked his own lock. A few dance moves with the tumble, a twist to the needle—and he squinted his eyemask as his body jolted a safe distance back—his fingers pointing the padlock _away_ and towards the apartment rooftop's distant horizon.

_**P-POWW!**_ A compressed blast of air and chemicals shimmied forth into the urban air, followed by a buzzing sound. Robin stuck the needle in again, twisted two times to the left, three times to the right...

_Sn-Snap! **Click**._ He got past his own boobytrap, and popped the padlock open. But he wasn't done. He reached a finger down to the base of his right glove and clicked an invisible button on the sleeve of it.

_**Bzzzt!**_ Sparks danced across his right glove's fingertips. He braced himself, reached a solid hand out, and palmed the whole metal door. **_ZHHHTTT!_** A bolt of lightning literally ran down the length of the entire door. A humming sound, and it opened with a creaking noise.

The charge on the door nao inert, Robin effortlessly pushed it open and slid into the shadowy, stuffy confines of his old Loft.

Robin's lithe figure formed an outline against the bright golden slit of the metal doorframe. Fireflies of dust floated in and out of the invading sunbeams as he shuffled slowly into his old domain, being swallowed up by the rusted brown walls, sheltered by a rickety wood ceiling. He brought a gloved hand up—expertly finding the tiny metal chain exactly where it hung from a light fixture barely clinging to the wooden planks overhead.

A yank—And a dull buzz filled the room as the fluorescent bulbs lit up. A tiny, sheetless cot appeared in the corner, flanked by a soot-black stove, then a long-long bench covered from end to end with birdarang blades, electronic gizmos, the guts and intestines of various gadgets, and several half dissected radios. On the opposite side of the claustrophobic space, coldly reflecting the blue fluorescent glow, a metal green safe resided—and beside it three tall lockers, all bolted shut. There was a metal stand, within which a dozen replacement staves waited for their moment to shine.

Finally—as the bulbs glowed to full brilliance—a veritable forest of paper sheets flapped in the April wind that ate its way through the shelter's rusted doorframe. Stretched just above the workbench was a wide bulletin board, and not a single square inch of the plushy cork surface remained to see the light of day. Every splotch of observable surface area had been covered in pens and thumbnails, and attached to those pens and thumbnails were files, documents, and newspaper clippings—and on all of those clippings there hung a sea of words, headlines, quotations, testimonials, expressions, warnings, prophecies, names, obituaries, epitaphs, and signatures:

_'Wayne Enterprises Expands into Jump City Shipping'_

_'Mayor Georgeton Meets With Foreign Dignitary from Kahndaq'_

_'Gotham's Boy Wonder Sighted in Commercial District'_

_'Ding Dong Daddy's Auto Repair and Facilities: Bring Your Junk and We'll Turn It Into Jewels!'_

_'Blue Girls Among Us? - Tales From Jump City Nightlife'_

_'Powers Inc and Westhaven Banking Consortium Discuss Possible Merger'_

_'Unemployment at an All Time Low – Divorce Rates Through the Roof'_

_'Kensuke Kobayashi Announces Mayoral Candidacy'_

_'Jump City High School Site of Illegal Fireworks Show'_

_'Alien UFO Cleanup Will Take Next Ten Years, Experts Say'_

_'Lexcorp Buys Shares in Powers Inc.'_

_'The Green Eyed Terror of Jump City Streets'_

_'Jacob's Ladder Rallies Clash With SuperBowl'_

_'Western District Going Nuts! - Squirrel Infestation of Jump City Park Out of Control'_

_'Church of Blood Erecting Chapel Outside of Zandian Embassy'_

_'Buzzard Gang Incidents at Record Low Since March'_

_'DJ Petra Leads Fundraiser For Westhaven Rest Center'_

_'Mayor Georgeton Denounces the Panama Express'_

_'North Prison Starts Construction of New Metaperson Containment Facility – Omega Wing'_

_'Victor Stone's Tower – A Citadel or an Eyesore?'_

_'United States Lifts Travel Ban Against Libya – Kaznia Still Out of the Question'_

_'Strange Red Lights Spotted in Forest City – Reports of Record Cold Temperatures'_

_'Political Vacuum in Markovia Now in its Fifteenth Year – What It Means for Jump City Immigration'_

_'Why Jump City Needs a Superman'_

_'Why a Xenothium Power Plant Would Have Turned Jump City into an Atlantic Coast City'_

_'Fewer Sharks in the Bay Since UFO Incident'_

_'Recent Lack of Rodeos a Source of Minimal Concern'_

_'Veronica Vreeland Opens New Skating Rink'_

_'Madeline Kobayashi - A Corporate Princess in the Making'_

_'McMahon Rescinds '05 Venue in Jump City'_

_'Central Gang Youths Enjoying a Revolving Door in Local Jails'_

_'Phaser Labs Partners Up with Stonetech Industries'_

_'Halo 2 Delayed Again'_

_'Big Pardoxical Bang? - Some Famous Scientists Nao Question the Fabric of the Universe'_

_'Music Industry at Legal War with Booster Gold'_

_'Riots Ensue when Jump City Bids for Montreal Hockey Team'_

_'Amazons Among Us – Metaphysical Feminism in a Superheroic Age'_

_'Mayor Georgeton Confident in Upcoming Election'_

_'Justice Society of America Denies a Prolonged War with Black Adam'_

_'The Dead Men and the Neon Hand – Possible Alliance?'_

_'Local College Tuition Inflation Correlated with Metropolis University Transfers'_

_'The Rise and Fall of Commissioner Kneehouse'_

_'Man with Eight Legs Allegedly Robs a Bus Depot'_

_'Victor Stone – Jump City's Bruce Wayne?'_

_'Jump City Police Relegate Forest City Patrol to Local Highway Unit'_

_'Waffles—America's True Enemy'_

_'Petracorp Buyout of Subway System Underway'_

_'Basement Kids Will Work for Fan Art – The Ills of Internet Culture'_

Robin's lips showed the slightest hint of a curve. He scanned his eyemask over the forest of paraphernalia, the mosaic of random thoughts. Staring deep into the paper bric-a-brac, he felt like he was concentrating on a magic eye painting, filtering thoughts through blades of reasons in his mind, rhythmically grabbing onto chunks of random sense as he lost himself, thought, and lost himself again. He almost wished that he had brought back the CD Player that was currently lying in an abandoned corner in his room at the Bunker.

Those were good days... ...Lonely days, but good days.

And today...

Robin breathed long through his nostrils. He leaned forward, squinted through his eyemask, and thumbed-thumbed-thumbed through the various clippings, looking for one newspaper sliver in particular.

Looking for one word...one word alone... ... ...the word he had woken up to...

Robin's gloved hand fished and fondled through the dozens upon dozens of leaflets, like an emerald crane searching for treasure amongst a pile of lost toys. He squinted through his eyemask, pilfered from underneath a large magazine clipping—and finally lit up.

"Ah. But of course—where no one can see you."

He lifted a pin, pulled the clipping out, and raised the scarcely three inch by four inch clipping up to his face.

His masked eyes scanned the heading:

_'Pawn Shop Robbery Foiled by Mysterious 'Wildcard' Vigilante'_

"Hrm... ... ...Louder than I thought."

Robin deftly folded the insignificant clipping, opened his seventh pouch from the center, and silently slipped it in, closing it with a-

_Snap._

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

It was always the small things that reminded Victor that he still had sweatglands left on his remaining flesh. Small things—like stretching to replace a lightbulb, waiting for a football team's final kickoff, reaching for a toolbox while lying underneath a vehicular prototype, sitting through the last few minutes of _Swordfish_, eating a deep bowl full of hot chili...

And then there was this—a quicksand marathon of its own merit—to stand and gaze into the abyss, and that abyss gazing straight back at him—but with half the Nietzschean mystique and twice the Asian grace—as Mr. Kobayashi liquidly took the better part of ten minutes to make his first utterance, lips dancing silkily, and all of it dripping forth impenetrable Japanese.

Victor Stone stared across the desktop and into Kensuke Kobayashi's face the entire time. And when the man's speech ended, the richly garbed Cyborg shuddered and exhaled to realize that the anguishing ten minutes had actually been a heart pounding thirty seconds, and he was suddenly aware of how much his titanium skeleton weighed as he instantly rattled in his boots at the slightest noise of the employed intepretor from the sidelines, suddenly and dutifully throating:

"The esteemed Mr. Kobayashi-san says that 'this is not a moment to dread, but a moment to delight—for as harrowing as the most recent circumstances have been, it at least is a most fortunate thing that both our grand companies, identical in their philanthropist goals—can finally meet face to face through the physical forerunners of Jump City's honest entrepreneurial spirit and free enterprise'."

Another silence, this one stabbing—for it was Cyborg's turn, his turn to do anything—anything but explode, he hoped.

The young man gulped. "Y-Yeah. Uhm...b-back at ya, buddy."

The interpreter turned to translate-

"No-**WAIT**...hold your horses, _dayum_..." Victor momentarily grumbled, turned once more to face Kobayashi, grinned earnestly, cleared his throat, and returned a like-minded volley: "Mr. Kobayashi, sir, I only wish we had met sooner—and in a circumstance that wasn't brought about by a horrible...erm...b-blunder on my part. I know I tried to make excuses for the things I led my team to do—for the reasons we did the things that we did—but none of those explanations mean a hill of pop-tarts as far as either of us is concerned. And I know that nao. It's taken me a while—_if you count 'two days' as a while, ahem—_But, well, erm..._(whew)_...there really is no better way to get this out than to get this out..."

Victor gazed at the translator, at Kobayashi, at some icy space between the two of them. He took a deep breath and bowed, bowed...bowed. Victor tilted forward in such a fashion that he looked three times the android that he had always detested to be, and yet—with such robotic grace—his penitent incline was no more programmed than it was sincere, and the young business heir made sure to follow it up with a quiet but desperate utterance:

"I am sorry. I am so very sorry, Mr. Kobayashi, for the pain I have caused you, for the pain that I have caused your employees, for the pain I may have caused their families, and for any damages I have surely committed to...uh...y-your Corporation's public image and your benevolent function within this city of ours..."

Cyborg once more stood straight up, his oily hinges positively creaking as he did so. He had somehao expected—or perhaps secretly hoped—for a brief moment of silence and contemplation to follow the heels of his sullenly prepared speech-But all too soon the office was pierced once more by the swift and neutral tongue of the interpreter, sidelong into Kobayashi's half-wrinkled ears, as the business emperor stared across the naked expanse at Victor, all the while listening to his exposed soul via a dot for dot drip of Japanese, broken only briefly here or there by a wayward 'Kobayashi-san', 'Corporation', and 'pop-tarts'.

Victor gnawed slightly on his lower lip. His titanium fingers tapped against each other behind his back—for the full three seconds it took to remind him of hao much noise doing that made at this point in his metallic life, and so he stopped there, hung there, swayed there... ...looking, listening, waiting.

And then the East Asian chattering ended as thoroughly as it began. The interpreter stood back as Kobayashi gazed back as the eyes of the Sun rolled back, dripping lower and lower towards the golden horizon stretching beyond the lengths of Placid Towers.

Rinse and repeat, but this time with a bit of bubbles added to the wash—for Kobayashi was smiling, again, but this time not so forcefully. The curve in the corner of his aged lips massaged a hidden spot in Victor's scant remaining heart—to see—for it was warm, if not righteous, and it bled through the whispery words of the foreign language as Kobayashi slowly finished his response, punctuated with a nod of the head...

And the translater provided: _'I know nao that I was wrong to temporarily hold faiths in my prior doubts—that you were anything but the gracious shadow of your father. Indeed, you are as polite and as honorable as him. And I see in person nao what I had decided to realize, alone, in deep thought over the last forty-eight hours, that your mistake in attacking my entourage was not something committed in arrogance—but merely committed in naievete. And that is something perfectly forgiveable of today's youth, especially if you are meant to learn from your mistakes and grow into the benefactors of tomorrow.'_

Cyborg blinked in response and smiled with a slight chuckle. "Uhhhh...Yeah." He glanced at the translator, then back to the man himself as he replied: "But, still, sir. A mistake is a mistake. And I hold personal responsibility for every member of my team. They were merely following my orders, and my orders were given with great blindness. I regret that you and your employees had to suffer for my misguideness. If it is of any consolation, I totally believe that I've learned from that night more than I've suffered."

The translator turned towards Kobayashi. The minute hand inched forward. Kobayashi replied, gazing at Victor. Another inch to the hand. The interpreter turned and relayed:

_'I am pleased to see the extent to which you are willing to humble yourself, Mr. Stone-san. But learn what you may—it would be **my** regret that what has transpired would be an impediment to your endeavors as much as it would be to mine.'_

"..." Victor stared, gaping. He blinked at the interpreter. The interpreter passed the stupified glance on to Kobayashi. Kobayashi folded his hands and clarified discreetly. The interpreter passed back:

_'We are both like-minded men. We are here in Jump City for reasons that extend beyond the initial purposes of our existence. If it weren't for my tenacity and gall, I wouldn't be situated here in Placid Towers, with a skyscraper of my own namesake almost fully constructed. Similarly, if it were not for your charisma and talent, you would not be standing here so professionally before me, a rich and popular young hero—with a Tower of your own also about to be built. I would think that we are both more than average citizens of this Jump City that we so love. There has been great anger and confusion between us, yes, but it would be tragic for that instinctual and natural emotion to drive a rift in the center of what could otherwise be a righteous prospect.'_

The deep words conveyed, Victor was still left blinking in the echo if them. His half-flesh brow creased as he tried to read something in Kobayashi's face that would shed some further light on the words, but ultimately he shook it off and throated forth, instead, an earnest statement:

"Please, Mr. Kobayashi, I am at a loss to see where you're coming from. All I know is—I've made some pretty horrible mistakes, and you of all people became the brunt of a joke that I didn't realize I was punchlining. You're right to believe that what I'm doing in this City is important—just like what you're doing in this City is important. And right now, forming this team of crime fighters is more important to me than any remaining organic cell on my body. I'm sorry if it's blunt of me to say, sir, but I would very desperately wish to know in what manner I can make up for all of the crap—er-_calamity_ that's gone down, so that the two of us can move on and continue playing our respective roles."

The interpreter took a deep breath and turned to relay Victor's last utterance. But he was barely halfway through when Kobayashi, out of nowhere, raised his hand to silence the rapidly blinking employee. The Corporate king squinted Cyborg's way. A torturous space in time, and then that familiar curve came to his lips—calmly, gracefully, so that Victor briefly saw where Maddie got it from, or perhaps vice versa—and then Kensuke Kobayashi turned to completely face the translator as if finally recognizing the finely suited man as the human being he always was. He murmured something quickly, firmly, but gently...and the translator briefly protested with a squirming of his upper body—to which Kobayashi's almond eyes ever so briefly flared, putting the eager beaver in his little place.

Fidgeting, glancing fitfully for a confusing second at Victor, the translator bowed and swiftly—quietly—walked away from the two wealthy men, leaving the two alone in a halo of stone solemnity.

Victor gawked to see the man leave. His brown and red eyes covered every inch of the servant's retreat, from pulling at the silver handles, to the opening and closing of the ivory double doors, to the pathetic emptiness that followed. Then, with a gape of perplexity, Cyborg swiveled his squeaky neck to once more face the leader of Kobayashi Corporation.

Alone.

Kensuke Kobayashi took a deep breath and, shuffling stonily around the desk, spoke in a slow—howbeit robotically accurate English: "Victor Stone...My precious daughter Madeline has the deepest faith and respect...for you. It has come to my...attention that I should...share that faith...as well. I know nao what...you are turning yourself into. I know nao...what you are becoming. For I too see myself...as that which you want to be." He came to a stop and stared eye to eye with Victor, his hands in his own pockets, his head nodding. "I see myself as a hero..."

"A h-hero, sir...?" Victor remarked, almost wanting right there to kick himself for the inquistive deflation in his voice.

"A hero to this city...To Jump City..." Kobayashi stretched an arm out towards the yawning glisten of urbanity under the sunset beyond the windows. "There is a reason why...I am here, and not in San Francisco. There...is a reason why JCN Broadcasting hails from here...and not Metropolis. There is a reason why I have...become the fastest...growing businessman on this side of the Continent. And, I do believe, it is...for the same reason...that you have chosen to stay here, Mr. Stone, when so many...things have happened...to threaten to change your corporation...to threaten to change your future...and yet, like me, you are here...You are not somewhere else."

"I..." Victor smiled nervously. "I-I'm honored that you would tell me all of this in person, in _English_ no less, Mr. Kobayashi-san. But...hell, forgive me if I'm at a _loss_ to see where you're _losing_ me..." He chuckled a bit.

Kobayashi gave a knowing grin, a knowing grin and a nod. "This City...needs saving, Mr. Stone-san. Jump City is a place erected on the pedestal of crime and misfortune. Up until nao, I thought that I was the only one to see that. But then I ran into you...and I felt shattered...and I felt angry...as if someone had...tried breaking the foundation of my dreams. But then Madeline spoke with me...and her youth and her charm and her beauty, and I...—I awoke, Mr. Stone-san. I awoke and...I realized that the dream was not just mine. You too...are the dreamer, Victor Stone. Though we choose...completely different ways to dream..."

Victor's human eye squinted at the business lord. He leaned his head to the side and half-orbited Kobayashi, all the while at the receiving end of the man's patient face. Finally, the half android thought aloud for the elder's benefit: "You are so rich, so powerful—You could have chosen any dayum city on the Pacific Coast to set up shop, to erect a media empire, to foster free trade and employment—and yet you came to Jump City, a young and nubile accident on the Atlantic Coast...because you wanted to make a _difference_, didn't you? Because anybody can be another drop in the pond of capitalism—But you wanted to be more than a drop..."

"I wanted..._How do you say it_..." Kobayashi grinned wide. "To **make waves**, Stone-san." He nodded his wrinkling forehead. "You know all about...making waves, hai?"

Victor's metal fist clenched and unclenched. "I should say so. But...I go about it much more colorfully. But you..." He squinted once more, gnawing at a distant smile, growing thicker. "...you're here to go about it much more subtley, ain't ya? Funny, hao I never saw it before. Jump City is the largest Atlantic hub for the Asian markets. Then, no more than two decades ago, you and your Corporation roll in—and suddenly there's a _purpose_ on the surface of it all. You're not just here to make business, are you, Mr. Kobayashi? You're here to make **face**."

The man took a deep breath. "The Panama Express." He seriously throated. "And those from the Pacific marketplace who would seek to exploit it—The Neon Hand, the Dead Men—nobody who has lived and done business on the Atlantic Coast can truly understand what is going on here, not like myself—not like I can. And if I can understand it, then perhaps—bit by bit, day by day—I can _change_ it. I can because I must...because this City is not here by accident...because nothing is ever here by accident...So Madeline has reminded me...as she always has...And you, Mr. Stone..." He shook his graying head with a granite smirk. "...You are no accident. Despite what some...have said in the contrary...Despite what I too may have said under a temper."

"... ..." Victor had to briefly break their shared gaze. "Ahem..." He cleared a sudden soreness in his throat and adjusted his collar before murmuring hoarsely: "Sir, I...I'm not sure if you know what it means for me to hear someone l-like you say something like that. I...erhm..." He gazed back finally at Kobayashi, his face warm and malleable. "I'm starting to think—_no—_I'm starting to **believe** that something brought us here today, something more than a tactical error. It's not enough that my family has known yours over the past ten years or so, but now...N-Now I'm beginning to dread all those mean things I said over the past five Christmas parties..." He sweatdropped.

Kobayashi let loose a hearty chuckle—a laugh universal in its deep throatedness. He slid over and planted a hand on Victor's shoulder before shuffling the shivering metal teenager along with him towards the balcony doors.

"Come, Stone-san. Walk with me." He uttered, one marching foot after another towards the sunset. "I have...a proposition for you...and your team..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Louse was a scraggly, bone-dangled, haggard waif of a man. Hunched over a rickety wooden bench—halo'd by a flickering rusted metal lamp in the corner of some decrepit, filthy upstairs apartment—he labored over a homemade death machine comprised of several rusted nails shoved nose-deep into a ceramic pipe, packed in all corners with explosive powder. Drops of sweat hung off the crackling frames of a pair of goggles sticking to his twitching sockets as the sentient organism fumed and fumed and wheezed over his fumbling work—shaky fingers doing a pathetic job of piecing together fuses and wires in a desperate attempt to create something that would go 'boom' on the street and not into his rash-eaten face.

It didn't help that with each minute he fuddled on, Louse remembered with greater and greater clarity the life that he used to live—that of a richly paid and daily showered delivery man for a Corporate entity that functioned mostly above the dark alleyways rather than beneath them. A life he had—once—where he could look forward to eating things every night that he had actually bought from drive thrus, rather than having to run over them in the middle of the street.

Yes, Louse remembered what he used to be—what he loved to be—three fantastical months ago, before one fateful incident in a downtown parking garage ended everything he had once took for granted, but nao struggled with each sweating night in the Northern Slums of Jump City to forget.

The whole mental debacle didn't help him at all in concentrating on the inside-out-explosive being pieced together beneath him. For that matter, it didn't help that some jackass on the ground level was running the engine of some other deathly contraption at full volume, sending muffled waves of chaos vibrating up through the very spine of the crime-ridden apartment building—rattling the very work stool upon which the half-decayed thug's rump precariously squatted.

"Nnnnngh—For the love of all that fornicates on God's Republican Earth!" Louse turned and spat over his shoulder. "Someone cut off the damn racket, already!"

A young thug, barely past his college years—_assuming he went to college—_stumbled through the door, carrying awkardly before him a cardboard box full of shotgun barrels—stuffed belly to chin. "Hrmmph..." the fellow stumbled in, panting, panting, huffing. "Keep your cool, Louse. It's probably one of the boys putting the finishing touches on one of the Buzzards' commissions."

"It's a waste of good labor, that's what it is—And a strain on the ears!" Louse grumbled, hovering once more over his latest 'masterpiece'-which was all too quickly resembling the shelled ghost of many a failed 'masterpieces' that dotted the far corner besides his crumbling workbench. "What the Hell are they doing down there anyways, Gibbs? Building a rocket pack made out constipated cymbal monkeys?"

"Beats the hell out of me...Nnngh-!" 'Gibbs' dumped the cardboard box down against a miniature fridge, making a frightened colony of cockroaches skitter into the furthest shadows of the room. "But consider hao little those flying leathernecks have been paying us lately, we're lucky to get any more projects to do for them."

"The Hell does it matter anyways...?" Louse grumbled, attempting to fuse two wires together-

"What's gotten into those Buzzards? The dayum psychoes used to be all over Town, then suddenly more than half of them got scared away. You suppose Margaret Thatcher's visiting Jump City Town Hall? Heheheh-" Gibbs stumbled across the dimly lit apartment, limping suddenly. "Whoah-!" He nearly bumped into a wobbling table stacked to the brim with milk jugs full of several questionable chemical compounds.

"Watch it, ya moose tool!" Louse hissed. "You knock that shit over, and our last means of profit goes flying out the window!"

"Ah nuts, Louse. Take a chill pill, will ya-?"

"The Hell I will! You and your loser friend owe me big time for letting you stay here, considering what I had to go through to get us out of the joint!"

The 'loser friend' in question stumbled in from the apartment stairwell. Thick, bored eyes barely imploring. "What's Louse bitching about nao?"

"Never you mind, Wes." Louse grumbled, then growled out towards the noise emanating from the hallway to Wes' back. "And will somebody _**please**_ tell someone to _**shut off **_that _**dayum engine!"**_

"Sounds like a generator to me." Wes droned, shutting the door. "Half the apartment's without power ever since Gordo's grenade launcher spontaneously exploded in his locker. All these days without repair—_hrmmph_—I could have sworn D-Cube promised us-"

"D-Cube ain't promised us shit!" Louse hissed, returning to his endless bomb job. "And generators don't grow louder by the minute. I swear—those asshats in the basement are going to blow this entire building up."

"And you won't?" Wes stumbled over towards the mini fridge, opened the door, brushed a few cockroaches off a beer can, and lifted it into the lamplight. "When was the last time you caught some shuteye, Louse? We don't want you going Unibomber on us. Not when we're in the same room, at least."

"He's been going at it for over fourteen hours..." Gibbs grumbled, examining one gun barrel after another—matching them up with various stocks to plot the reassemblage a boomstick. "If I didn't know better-"

"Shiet, man..." Wes smirked, popped the beer can open, and took a swig. "Ahhh—Louse, _**please**_ tell us you ain't been touching the Green."

"We're out of chocolate, dumbass-"

"Not _that_ Green."

"Pfft—Like I could afford the stuff."

"Can't you?" Gibbs smirked over, aiming the useless, disembodied gunbarrel straight at Louse from across the way. The vibrating noise from below intensified, like a swarm of robotic bees surging against the floorboards. "I mean, I know we got busted and all—But your pockets were practically _overflowing_ with the stuff when we got let out. I'm surprrised you didn't buy yourself a ticket to Central City with a drop of it. Not to mention thoes _fancy toys_ you had us packing—"

"For the _**last time—**_I didn't have a single vial of the green crap left on me! And like I'd be holding out on a pair of desperate losers like you!" Louse grumbled, his fingers clamoring at this point over the wires. His bench was practically rattling from the rising motor noise. "You two are helpless enough as it is without your eyes turning into a St. Patrick's Day Massacre—grrr-" He swiveled on his bench once more and hollared, spittingly: "Will someone _please_ get them to _shut off that goddam motor!"_

"Yeah Yeah...I'm on it..." Wes took one last chug of the beer, tossed the thing out the window and onto the shadowed fire escape. "I swear, if they're doing one more goddam hydraulic job for those lowriding asshats from Old Downtown..."

"I'm telling you..." Gibbs smirked to himself, polishing another shotgun barrel. "-it's for the Buzzards-"

"Everyday, I swear..." Louse mumbled, finally fusing a piece of wiring together with a puff of electric smoke. His goggles were sheen with sweat and angst. "...I wonder why I ever left Bludhaven to begin with-" The motoring cacophony rose to a fever pitch, making the pipes and doorframes throughout the apartment shake like a Universal Ride. And just like that—_snap!—_Louse's fragile wires tore apart. He snarled, snarled some more, and slammed his gloved fists into bench on either side of the inert explosive. "Dammit—_Dammit_—_**Dammit—**__**WES**__**!"**_

"I'm on it—**I'm on it!**" The young thug snarled and reopened the door to the throttling noise. He stepped out and stared down the wheelwell, seeing two panicked street urchins rushedly scrambling up the steps. "Hey—_HEY!_ Hal! Jefferson! What the Hell, man? Tell the Fonze club down there to can it! Louse is trying hard to work up here on his latest bouncing betty-"

"-beat it, Wes!" One of the two youngsters gasped, palpitating, eyes wide as saucers. "Grab your richest shit and dovetail it out the window right this second! I mean it!"

Wes could barely hear the panicking thug's rant over the roar of the infernal engine. "Say what-?.!.?.!"

"Scram! He's here! We haven't got a prayer-"

"Who's here? Goddammit, you stupid retards! If you want me to hear you from two flights of stairs, tell them to shut off that crazy ass engine-"

_**POW!**_ A door two stories down exploded as the R-Cycle burst through, its engine throttling in the cold flicker of a dangling light bulb as—**_SCREECH!—_**Robin, helmet glistening ominously, tore through a sea of wooden splinters, dragging a bloodied, drooling thug beside him.

Wes immediately learched over the wooden railing of the stairwell, instantly upchucking a half pint of beer back into his mouth. His eyes went as wide as his cheeks as he gawked at the Boy Wonder below.

"... ... ..." Robin's helmet tilted up. He dropped the groaning body, reached into his utility belt, and produced a steel-hard bo-staff. _Crkk!_ His other hand revved at the throttle of the bike. _**VRMMMMM!**_

"_Well?" _ Louse's voice rat-squeaked from the apartment behind Wes. _"Did you tell them off yet?"_

_**SCRE-E-E-E-ECCCH!**_ The R-Cycle burned rubber and roared-roared-roared up the steps of the stairwell like a demon clamoring up Mount Olympus. The entire stairwell roared with the siren scream of the ascending horsepower. 'Hal' and 'Jefferson' screamed like schoolgirls and scurried on all fours up the crumbling, rattling staircase.

But with a rotating strobe of yellow light, Robin was upon them. _**WHAMMM!**_ He clotheslined one with his bo-staff, sending him tumbling head over heels til his face smashed against the crumbling stairsteps. **_VRMMMMMM!_** Then he pitched the bo-staff overhead and tossed it so that it pinned the second scrambler to the wall like a butterfly. _**SCREEECH!**_ Robin careened around the corner, waving a fist out in time to knock the air out of the dangling thug's lungs. **_WHMPP!_** And the R-Cycle mercilessly climbed up the next flight of stairs, zeroing in on-

"_Wes?.!.?.!"_

The young thug gulped his bile and Budweiser back down his throat. "Buddha's Balls..." He spun in a pale gasp. "Guys—We gotta make like Green Day and blow-" _**WHAM!**_ He stupidly ran straight into the doorframe and fell on his butt. "Augh—Jesus on a unicycle!"

The door to an apartment two rooms down flew open and a fat man with long curly black hair lumbered out into the noisy chaos: _**"**Rrgggh?"_

"Gordo-!" Wes rubbed a bleeding noise and pointed down at the ascending red motorcycle. "Shotgun!"

"Rggh!" The lardy one nodded and thundered back into his apartment.

Wes stumbled to his feet, his twitching eyes reflecting the penumbra of the incoming R-Cycle's headlight-

_Ch-Chtung!_ 'Gordo' stomped out half a breath later, cocking two shells into a giant rifle. "Rrrghh-!" He aimed the thing straight down the stairwell-

-just as Robin grunted from underneath his helmet and jerked the handles to the side, simultaneously flipping a red switch. _**PHFTOO!**_ A lateral thruster shot off.

_**K-KABLAM!**_ Gordo blasted a load of buckshot.

But the R-Cycle had already flipped sideways, agilely planting both tires against the corner of the stairwell, dodging the spray of hot lead by half a foot. _**VRMMMM!**_ Robin rode the wall, kicked an apartment door with his metal boot, and flipped the entire bike three hundred sixty degrees in the air, effectively giving Gordo a 'right hook' with the rear wheel. **_WHAM!_** The R-Cycle landed upright. _**SCREECH!**_ Robin bent over as Gordo's fat body teetered over him—then the Boy Wonder stretched upright with a muscular shrug of his shoulders, tossing the man through the shattering guardrail.

_**SMASH!**_ Gordo's second cartridge fired blindly into the air as the flailing fatman tumbled down three flights- "**_RRRRRGH-!_**" and smashed through an abandoned elevator frame, falling unsconscious. "Rrghh..."

_RVVVV!_ The R-Cycle revved. _**Scrrrcccch!**_ And once more made its way straight towards Wes-

"Nnnngh-" The thug whimpered and all but pratfalled into the apartment. He flew up to his feet and slammed the door shut behind him, pressing his entire weight against the shaking thing while Louse and Gibbs stood before him, wide-eyed.

"Wes...What gives?" Gibbs stammered.

"The Hell's going on out there?" Louse ignorantly snarled. "Is it the feds?"

Wes glared incredulously from where he played 'doorstop'. "Louse, do I _**look**_ like I've just seen the goddam feds?"

_**PLOW!**_ The R-Cycle roared on through, sending chunks of shattering door and screaming Wes ragdolling all across the apartment floor. The sheer concussion of the entrance knocked the electric lamps ajar, so that the helmeted sight of Robin flew in and out of the limelight like a swinging ghost.

A wet spot formed in Louse's jeans. Two glaring Boy Wonders shimmered off his flickering goggles. "Oh no...n-not again..."

Robin started to lean forward-

_**Pow!**_ A bathroom door kicked open.

Robin jerked his helmet over to see.

"Wh-What-" A thug limped out, struggling to pull his pants up—dropping an issue of _WWE Magazin_e at the sight the engine noise's source. "Oh...Oh _what the **hell?.!.?"**_ He hobbled one-footed towards a coffee table upon which rested a lone pistol.

_**Vrmmmmm!**_ Robin swiveled the R-Cycle and roared claustrophobically across the room.

The half-naked thug dove desperately, Free-Willying his pot-bellied self towards the firearm-

_**SNATCH!**_ Robin's elbow caught the cretin in mid-air. The gasping man was hoisted clear across the room by the sheer momentum of the bike. The R-Cycle and its entangled villain made like a bullet for Gibbs.

Gibbs gasped and ducked just in the nick of time—for the half-naked thug flew, screaming, clear over his head—sailing out the window and pinballing to a painful stop on the fire escape beyond. Gibbs stood up, glanced over his shoulder, and sighed with relief-

_**SCREEECH!**_

Gibbs looked back, only to have his vision filled with **ceiling** after being tripped from underneath by the swerving rear tire of the R-Cycle. _**WH-WHUD!**_ He landed hard on his tailbone through a bench full of gun parts. **_CRASH!_** "Aaaaugh-" He winced visibly.

Straddling the puttering engine, Robin glanced from Gibbs—across the way towards where Wes was limping back to his feet and reaching for a baseball bat.

_**VRMMMM!**_

Barely clutching the weapon, Wes looked up—his bleeding face gasping as it lit up completely in the yawning scream of the R-Cycle's headlight. _**WHAM!**_ He was shoved, shoved, shoved all the way into the opposite wall of the apartment—smashing a pinup of Powergirl into scrap paper. "Uhhhnngh!" He shuddered and winced against the pressure of Robin's R-Cycle.

"_Nnngh—W-Wes! I-I got this..._" Gibbs grunted from the other side, stumbling to _his_ feet and pulling out a large machete from behind a smashed television set-

"... ..." Robin's helmet spun. His fingers twisted at the handle, shifted the bike into reverse, and—_**SCREEECH-VRMMMM!**_ He throttled backwards into a gasping Gibbs-

_**THUD!**_ "AAAH—OWW!" Gibbs dropped the machete as he was helplessly pinned against the mini fridge by the rear tire of the R-Cycle.

"_Unngh—Goddam Evil Gay-nevil_-" Wes shuddered on the other side of the apartment and reached again for the bat-

Robin shifted gears again. _**Scree-EEEECH-VRMMMMM—THUD!**_

"AAAUGH!" Wes wheezed, pinned once more—his twitching hands grasping desperately to the front wheel well of the R-Cycle as the weight of the motorcycle punished his lungs against the apartment wall. "Nnngh...Hnnngh..."

"... ... ..." Robin sighed. Straddling the rumbling bike, the Boy Wonder stripped one driving glove off, slowly. Then the next glove. He peeled both covers off, revealing his trademark green articles underneath. With freer fingers, he reached to the chinstrap of his helmet and unclasped it—one side at at time.

Behind him—above the unconscious figure of Gibbs—the bruised thug in his underwear slowly, stealthily crept back inside from the fire escape. One leg entering through the window, he reached into his boot and slipped out a concealed combat knife. Smiling devilishly at the back of Robin's cape, he raised the dagger high into the air and started to slither his second leg inside-

Robin slipped his helmet off and—without looking—visciously tossed the thing over his shoulder.

_**WH-WHAP!**_ The headpiece violently ricocheted off the knifeman's skull, sending him collapsing to the dirty floor, asleep. "Nnngh..."

"... ... ..." Robin leaned casually forward—pressing his weight even further against the helplessly pinned Wes. "Nnnngh...Wes, Wes, Wes." His eyemasked shined emotionlessly in the dim light of the decrepit hovel. "Hao many times have you and Gibbs been through this with me? If you're not trying to peddle drugs on the street—or alien weaponry in parking garages—you're holed up in a trash heap like this, surrounded on all sides by cheaters and gang bangers—and to do what? To put together ancient weaponry in an attempt to sell them to the nearest idiot with a blood fetish? You'd think that after all the times I've thrown you two behind bars, you'd learn to fly right—or at least clip your wings so you don't get the urge to give into temptation."

"Nnnngh... ...Stupid fruitcake wonder..." Wes hissed, spitting up a red glob of beer and pus. "I-I heard you paid Miles at Muffler Pub a little visit just like this one..." He snarled, his eyes momentarily flaring. "Look at the balls on you, driving across town, dressed like the little menstrual stain that you are, getting into the noses of people who have lived here for far longer than you will at this rate... ... ...Good thing for you that D-Cube is in traction, or else your spandex humpin' ass would be fried!"

"... ..." Robin craned his neck down and leisurely flicked a switch. _Vrrr!_ The headlight of the R-Cycle tilted up ever so barely and switched to Brights—_wriiiii!_-directly in Wes' angry eyes.

"Nnng—DAAH! _Stop doing that!"_

"Wow, Wes. You say that like you're still working with Central!" Robin leered. "Are you and Gibbs _still working_ with Central, Wes? Cuz I'm gonna have to get serious—if you're both still working with Central..."

"What in the holy name of El Dandy do you want with us _**NAO?**_"

"It's not enough to arrest you for the meth lab you've got set up in that thing you call a bedroom..." Robin motioned with his tosseled head of hair. "It's not enough that I rope you and Gibbs up tonight upon evidence of your illicit weapons sales, bomb manufacturing..." He sighed and folded his arms, leaning back on his motorcycle seat. "Hell, Wes, what I found you and Gibbs' transporting in the parking garage three months ago is enough to get you in jail for life—if I have anything to do with it."

"But do you have anything to do with it...?" Wes hissed, practically sunburned by the glaring headlight that rubbed against his cheek. "...fine job you've done of keeping us in the slammer so far!"

"Fortunately for me, you both are just as harmless as you are stupid." Robin exhaled, unfolding his arms into serious fists. "In truth, I'm after Louse. Not you."

"L-Louse...? Wh-What would you want with him?"

"Answers. Answers to questions I have."

"Wh-What the Hell are you looking for?"

"Not 'what'. 'Who'. Nao where is Louse."

"L-Louse...?" Wes squinted past the glare of the headlight, blinking at the sudden emptiness of the place, and sputtered: "H-He ain't here, man!"

Robin sighed. "Please, Wes. This apartment is full of cockroaches, full of beer, full of bomb cases, and it smells like dirty socks dipped in vinegar. **Louse** has **been here**. Nao where is he-?"

No sooner had Robin asked, but there was a desperate rattling—then a whimpering—then another rattling from a closed closet door off to the side.

"... ... ..." Robin glanced aside, glanced at Wes, then glanced at the closet again. "Thanks. You've been a great help."

"Uhhh—Louse?" Wes sputtered desperately across the place. "Ya might wanna open the door-" Wes gasped—surprised that he could suddenly breathe. He lurched forward into a great, sudden darkness. But before he could blink twice to make sense of why the headlight had turned of—_**WHAM!**_-Robin's fist flew across his cheek and he was out like a light.

_Vrmmm-Vrmmmm!_ Robin pivoted the bike until it directly faced the closet door. He leaned boredly against the bugshield and murmured over the green glove cupped against his chin. "Louse. Come on, Louse. I know you're in there."

"_Mmmck off, mmffithead!"_ A grumbling voice hurled from beyond the door.

"What was that, Louse?"

"_Mmmff-Mmmff—I ain't coming out of this closet for as long as I live!"_

"... ... ...Hmmm..." Robin thought about it, thought about it, thought about it, ultimately choosing to stifle inner Beast Boy, and instead leaned back...pulling a lever. _**Wrrrr!**_ A glistening metal hook emerged from the front chassis of the R-Cycle. Robin's green glove lethargically pressed a button—**_PFTHOOOO!_** The sharp metal object rocketed forward on the end of a metal cord and imbedded into the door—summoning a high pitched shriek from the other side. An opposite button was pressed, and the metal hook retracted—violently dragging with it the wooden door frame—_**CRUNNNCH!**_-exposing the fetally coiled figure of Louse—clutching an umbrella to his chest.

"... ... ... ... ..." The goggled man shivered, shuddered, trembled in the headlight's glow.

"Okay, Louse..." Robin leaned forward on the puttering engine once more. "You can make this easy. I really don't want to resort to demolition."

Louse blinked under his goggles. He gazed at the shattered coffee table, the broken door frames everywhere, the upturned mini fridge and the shattered bits of Powergirl. "Ffft—Screw you, ya melon fudge! Can't you just leave well enough alone?.!.?.!"

"Gibbs and Wes, I might...But not you, Louse. Be proud if you like..." Robin glared. "You're a regular razor blade in the Trick-Or-Treat apple. Having you on the street is like having worm in one's intestines. It's more of a bother than a problem, but leave it festering for long and the whole system backs up."

"Well ain't you poetic—!"

"Speaking in analogy of filth and refuse tends to get through to you and your buddies. So what about it? You gonna cooperate?"

"By doing _**what**?"_

"I think I already made this clear. Coming out of the closet would help-"

"Not for a million Japanese schoolgirls-!"

"-and for another, I have a few questions."

"Yeah?" Louse spat, trembling against the umbrella. "What about?"

"That's the point of questioning, nao isn't it?" Robin cleared his throat. "It's about an incident at a pawn shop on Fifth Street-"

"Hah! Fifth Street! You and your Teen Tragics know all about that, ya dipshit!"

Robin frowned. "No—I'm talking about _weeks_ ago. Across from St. Faustina Chapel there lies a pawn shop, owned by a married couple. Their names aren't important—But something violent happened there. An armed robbery, right at sundown."

"Hao the Hell should I know anything about a robbery that took place at some god forsaken pawn shop I've never even been to-?"

"Louse..." Robin sighed, patiently rolling along. "The two robbers were Stuart and Derrick Howard—brothers in crime. Does that ring a bell?"

"... ... ..." Louse glanced at Robin, at the wreckage of the room, at the piles of useless explosives, at the umbrella in his grasp, at the R-Cycle, then at Robin again. "...No."

"Oh come on, Louse!"

"What difference does it make what I tell you at this point? Just take me in already!"

"Not until you tell me about the pawn shop robbery-"

"For the last time!" Louse wheezed. "I know nothing about those three punks or what they did-"

Robin pointed a gloved finger, smirking. "So it _**was**_ three people...!"

"... ... ..." Louse bit his lip.

Robin exhaled and leaned forward against his handlebars. "Because—as a matter of fact—over the past three months, you've been hiring punks on the street to act as reconaissance for several crimes throughout Old Downtown. What a low you must have sunk to—that you can no longer get a piece of the action. Oh no, Louse, you can only _facilitate_. Crime's not so glamorous when you can no longer do it in a suit, huh? No wonder you always have your rat-nose stuck in bomb making. I think that, secretly, you hope one of them will go off in your face some day. It'd save you a lot of trouble."

"The hell does it all matter to you?"

"It matters because the police—in all of their investigations—only account for the two punks found at the scene—Stuart and Derrick Howard. They know nothing of Jeremy Crews, the man _you _posted as 'lookout' in the street outside the pawn shop."

"And lemme guess—You wanna find him?"

"Wish I could." Robin replied, deadpan. "But it looks like the Central gang found him first. He was in pieces by the time I lockpicked my way into his hotel room three hours ago."

"URP-" Louse nearly wretched into the umbrella, shuddering. "Stupid...Stupid kids...I-I swear..."

"Hmm...I bet you do. And I bet you could, in court."

"Is that what this is all about? Turning me in and trying to prove a connection to some shiet that happened weeks ago?"

"Mmmm...partly. But beyond that—I _know_ you spoke with Jeremy Crews since the event happened, before he was murdered. And I know that _others_ spoke with him too, many others—But you first, Louse, because you were his employer. Tell me...what did he have to say about what happened at the pawn shop...?"

"Hao should I know—?"

"What made Jeremy run away so fast, and so frightened from the site that _not even the victims at the store_ caught sight of him...?"

"Hao should I **care**-?"

"What is this I hear—from inside and outside the criminal world..." Robin leaned forward, his eyemask icily thin. "...about a 'Wildcard'?"

"... ... ... ..." If Louse wasn't pale as a sheet beforehand, he certainly was nao.

Robin cocked his head aside at that. He switched the R-Cycle's engine off. Deathly silence permeated the room icily as he waited...waited...

Louse trembled, gulped, restored his resolve, and grumbled: "I don't know nothing about _Wildcard_..."

Robin murmured out loud in thought: "Then why do you speak so absolutely of it...?"

"H-Him..."

"'**Him'**?"

Louse frowned once more. "You know what—Screw it. It's nothing. You're nothing. This is nothing! I want the cops or something already, for freak's sake!"

"One last time—Come out of the closet..." Robin motioned with a gloved hand and reached to his utility belt with the other. "...and then we can both see about you answering my question with a bit more finality, and maybe we can get you a ride to someplace with more bars and less cockroaches-"

"And for the last time—I ain't budging!" Louse hissed. "I don't care if you're riding a tricycle from Hell!"

"Put the umbrella down, Louse."

"Make me, zit lips!"

"I'm from Gotham. You know hao those things make me feel-"

"And you should!"

"Should what?"

"FEEL-" Louse's teeth glistened brazenly in momentarily moonlight as he ripped the umbrella open, unearthing a concealed weapon with a handle and a long, curved barrel. A bright green glow, unearthly, and a high pitched hum, also unearthly: _**Vriiiiiiii-KRA-KOW!.!.!**_

Robin quick-as-a-cat ducked a violent stream of burning emerald energy that surged over his dark head, sailing into the wall of the apartment behind him and melting through the next five successive rooms—summoning shrieks and yelps from the cowardly criminals holed up within.

"Goddammit—Gotta just—NNghh-" Louse balanced himself on one knee and aimed again.

Robin pivoted his head back. Frowning. His eyemask glistened sharply-

_**KRAKOW!**_

Robin flung his body sidways, pivoting the R-Cycle at over eighty degrees as an air conditioning unit exploded from the laser behind him. He revved the engine to life in a blink. _**VRMMMM!**_ And spun a donut into the floor until he summoned enough momentum to outrun a third blast from Louse that burned a hole into the flat below.

_**KRAKKK****!**_

**VRMMMM! **Robin circled the length of the room, ripping up carpet and piles of year-old-newspapers...

"AAAAGH-" Louse dove out of the closet and side-strafed, firing, firing, firing his unearthly weapon at the motorcyling hero. "Pull a Nascar already, you spineless lady-legged son of a bitch!" _**KRAK****-****KRAK-KKKRAKOW!**_

_**VRMM—SCREECH!**_ Robin wheelie'd over a laser blast, swerved, zig-zagged, and soared straight into a lopsided poker-table. **_TH-THUMMMP-VROOOOOM!_** He ramped high into the air, his head having to tilt aside to avoid contact with the ceiling-

"NNNNGH!" Louse growled and clutched the laser blaster with both hands, aiming upwards in slow motion at the skyward motorist above-

But Robin was suddenly firing a grappling hook down at the cretin. _**POW!**_ The cord wrapped around the man three times and instantly snagged, throwing the punk's aim off kilter as he was yanked upwards towards the airborn Boy Wonder.

"Whoahhh—AAAA-" _**WH-WHUMP!**_ Louse slammed against the underside of the bike's chassis, and had barely a horrified millisecond before...

...the inevitable...

_**THUDDD!**_ The R-Cycle came down directly over him, plowing the thug's body smack dab into a loveseat—shattering the furniture in two. "Ughhhhhh-" Louse moaned, his goggles cracked, his body wincing all over from being pinned down by the red hot motorcycle.

Robin reached a gloved hand out—_Snatch!—_he grabbed the still-steaming laser rifle by the barrel. He raised it to his eyemask. "Hmmm..." He gazed down at Louse and continued pressing the full weight of himself and the bike down into the man and sofa. The front wheel consistently and painfully nudged into the crook of the helpless thug's neck. "And to think..." Robin boredly throated. "...I had thought I had stripped you clean of all your gadgets three months ago in the parking garage." He squinted his eyemask and nodded. "I don't give you enough credit, Louse. You really _are_ a pathetic shadow of your even more pathetic past."

"Why don't you take your shadows and stick them up your candy-"

"The 'Wildcard'. Tell me what you know."

"I'll tell you nothing but hao to make love to a chainsaw, you good for nothing self-righteous-"

Robin frowned and clutched his fist around the bike's throttle. _**VRMMMMM-SCREEE-EEE-EEECH!**_ The rear tire of the R-Cycle burned a hole in the carpet and slowly, icily inched its way up...up...up between Louse's legs, closing the gap-

The man gasped. "Okay—OKAY!" He finally shrieked, glanced forlornly at his last worthwhile stockpile dangling loosely in the Boy Wonder's grasp, and breathed with ease as the engine cut off. "He... ...It... ...Her... ... ... ...Whatever it is...It all started that one night when Stuart and Derrick tried to squeeze some money out of the losers at the pawn shop."

"Tell me something I **don't** know." Robin hissed through clenched teeth.

"There i-isn't much to say!" Louse panted, gulped. He rambled on:"Over the next week that followed—we all thought it was just our imagination! At night, the shadows seemed to be following us. With Central taking such a huge hit from D-Cube going into hiding, we thought that maybe there was a civil war about to brew. But then these guys—man—they start getting _messed up!_ And I mean _messed up real bad!_ Having the snot beat out of them—And by nothing, man! They just walk into the shadows of an alleyway, making their usual rounds—and suddenly..._Wham! Smack! Whap!_ They're either unconscious and cut all over the place or bruised up like a punching bag, or they're running back to their apartments, screaming like sissies for their mothers! I haven't seen that sort of shiet since Bludhaven, man!"

Robin narrowed his eyemasked gaze and listened as the pinned criminal continued his desperate utterance. Louse's breaths grew more and more ragged as something beneath those fractured goggles opened a deep, secret, and very fresh wound from the shuddering shadows of the apartment:

"I don't know what it is—But there's something on the loose. And the closest any of us have gotten to the source to even make _heads or tails_ out of it was Wes! And he refuses to talk about it! He just came back one night, shuddering, murmuring 'I saw it, I saw it'. And when he asked the poor sap what it was, he goes 'Wildcard. Sonuvabitch is real'."

Louse shook and squirmed agianst the front tire of the R-Cycle as he stammered and sputtered:

"And he's out like a light. Didn't wake up until four o'clock in the afternoon the next day. His shotgun was gone. We all asked Wes what he did with the shotgun. He said he hid it under his bed cuz he doesn't want 'Wildcard to find it again'. We asked him why. Wes said 'cuz he tainted it, it's got him all over it'. And from then on, we never asked him about it again. We thought he was on a Green trip or something, man. But then when others started talking about it—talking hao it's one of the superheroes, one of you guys perhaps, well...I don't know what to think anymore. You're the superhero, you tell me! Don't you deal with this sort of mystic crap day in or day out?"

"... ... ... ..." Robin was silent, contemplative, as if something inside of him was deeply pierced by the sudden panic and genuine fear pouring out of this pathetic man lying beneath his motorcycle. "... ... ...If you're pulling my chain-"

"Ya stupid oaf—You're giving me the figure four with a motorcycle! I'm telling you the truth, goddamit!" Louse motioned his bruised head out the window into the sunset-lit streets of Jump City beyond. "I'm telling you...You gotta put a leash on one of your pals, cuz whoever he is—He's preying on people right beneath your nose! I mean—Don't y'all got some Geneva Convention of superheroes or something that you abide by? It's enough dealing with **your** crap, but nao this...?"

"... ... ..." Robin kicked off the sofa and rolled in reverse on the bike. "I wouldn't know anything about that. Whatever this thing is you've dealt with—It's not one of mine."

"W-What...?" Louse blinked, panting wildly. His goggles refracted the insanity of the beating moment, his face sheen with sweath. "You... ..._Screw me gentl_y _with a fork_—You don't even know what you're **looking** for, do you? I-I thought you were on top of this! What hell use am I to you-?"

"Good point." And Robin aimed something at Louse's neck.

"Wait, what are you-" _Pf-Pfft!_ Louse twitched, a pair of tranquilizer darts resting in his neck. "...oh, sweet sweet ponies." _Kerplunk!_ "Zzzzzzzzzzz..."

"... ... ..." Robin stared at Louse, at the fresh laser burns in the room. He glanced over at the unconscious body of Wes. "... ... ..." His eyemask gaze trailed along the lengths of the apartment, and into a bedroom...inside which rested a matress, resting slightly ajar...as if it was laying on top of something hidden in a swift and obligatory panic. "'Tainted'...h-huh...?"

The Boy Wonder finally, _finally_ dismounted off his R-Cycle. He marched on stiff legs towards the bedroom, not looking back.

In the meantime, Gibbs started to stir...wincing all over as he sat up. "Nnngh...Am I dreaming...or d-did Robin just ride in here and-?"

From the bedroom, Robin pulled a remote out of his utility belt. He blindly flicked a button.

_**VRMMMMM!**_ Under remote control, the R-Cycle backed up one last time into Gibbs—slamming him unconscious into the mini fridge. **_WHUD!_** "OOF...nnngh..."

Another button press.

_Chirp Chirp!_ The R-Cycle's headlight strobed, and the vehicle shut down.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Do you...know the origin...behind the name 'Jump City'?" Kensuke Kobayashi asked of Victor Stone.

Victor glanced back at the man, human eye squinting against the sunset. "I always figured it was a Harry Truman thang—yanno, some really joyous nickname for the industrial district after the troops made it back stateside following World War II."

"Hmmm...not a bad guess. But the name...goes further back than that...Mr. Stone-san..." Kobayashi stared into the windy urbanscape before them. The two heirs of Jump City stared into their home from the balcony of Placid Towers, the amber evening bathing them in a warm glow that matched the sudden and intimate companionship. "Over three centuries ago—when the European colonies...were just making their foothold...on this most fertile land... ... ...There was a great religious crusade. A purging—if you will—of those whom... ...the common theocratics... ... ...perceived to be pagan traitors... ..."

Cyborg nodded, his metallic forehead glistening with the condensation of high altitude. "Witch trials. Like the sort they had in Salem? Things were pretty cruddy back then, I imagine."

"Hmmm...this wonderful state of ours... ...was of no exception..." Kobayashi related. "After three consecutive winters in a row that decimated crops beyond restore—The local clergymen... ... ...fell prey to rumor and persuasion. Backed by...a ravenous and blood thirsty...public opinion... ...they saw to it that a dozen innocent girls should... ...be punished for sorcery that...they had allegedly been witnessed committing. It was—_how should you say—_so easy to 'connect the dots'... ... ...to put the blame on girls and pagan rituals... ...for the way in which the harvest faired so poorly..."

Victor listened quietly, intently. This was Kobayashi's conversation from the start—even before Victor got up and had breakfast that morning, that afternoon's conversations had all belonged toMadeline's father.

"After several months... ...of kangaroo trials... ... ...where pathetic excuses for evidence...and testimony...were presented..." The elder shaded his eyes against the glint of the sunset off the half-grown spire of his Kobayashi Tower several blocks away. "The clergy and the local judiciary... ...decided unanimously... ... ...to perform an exorcism of the 'accursed damsels'. Only, it was never truly a... ... casting out of demons. The girls were forced... ...to gather themselves upon a great promontory... ... ...overlooking the northern cliffs, the sea bluffs outside of Town—where North Prison resides in modern day."

"Oh, I think I remember this story from elementary school..." Victor broke in. "The girls were ordered to leap off the cliffs. If they were possessed by demons, they would fall under the weight of their own—_I dunno—_CONVICTION or something, and be dashed against the rocks. But if they were to be given the grace of God, then angels would carry them further—so that they would fall harmlessly into the water."

"Hardly a canonical tradition of the ordained..." Kobayashi smiled knowingly. "But the logic of pure madness—Of men in charge of a colony starved of resources...starved of luxury... ... ...and starved of hope. So—for the sake... ...of everyone's superstition—these poor women...were going to sacrifice themselves... ...casting their helpless bodies against the waves and rocks... ...below the cliff facing... ...And nobody bothered to stop them. Nobody...stood up and...tried to defend these poor innocents." A breath, and then he turned and looked steadily towards Victor. "Except for one soul."

Cyborg squinted back at Kobayashi, the half-android's memory clearly failing him at this length.

Kobayashi merely smiled back. "His name...was Glen Slack."

"Mmm-Ohhhhh..._Slack_..." Cyborg nodded. "So that's why they made a statue out of him-"

"They made a statue out of him, Stone-san, because he was but a man—a simple maker of farm tools, who had spent his entire life... ...crafting materials... ...of utility for his very own society. And then one day... ... ...when everyone he had lived to call...neighbors and friends... ... ...suddenly gave into complacency and madness... .. ...He stood up against the waves of hysteria... ...and he defended these poor innocent women. He said that if they were posessed, then so was he... ... ...And that he might as well be blamed...for the last three years of...failing crops as well." Kobayashi turned around and leaned his back against the railing, arms folded resolutely against the high winds. "And do you know what happened to this man?"

"If the statue they made of him in Downtown is of any indication..." Victor bit the edge of his lip. "...I take it Mr. Slack didn't stick around too long to reap the benefits of being a good samaritan..."

"Mister Glen Slack not only convinced... ...the people of the colony that... ...he could have half of the girls' demons... ...driven inside of him, but... ...as soon as he did so... ... ...he flung his own body off the northern cliffs... ... ...and fell to his death against the rocks and shoals of the waterfont." Kobayashi waved an arm back through time—brushing through the cityscape behind them, and into the murky depths of tragic yesteryear. "His act of self sacrifice, however perceivably absurd, was the...only way that at least half of those girls could go away free... ...and live healthy, long lives. Years later, the clergy men...who invoked the murderous event... ...were swiftly denounced and put to death themselves. But that did not change the name that was...forever given to the cliffside, and...consequently... ...the entire colony that grew in the shadow of the tragedy."

Kobayashi swallowed, then blurted with finality:

"'Devil's Jump'."

Cyborg nodded. "And in the years, decades, centuries to follow...'Devil's Jump' became something a bit less menacing." He smirked. "'Jump City'. Heh...I only knew half of that tale, until nao. Funny hao things change with time-"

"But has it really changed, Mr. Stone-san? _Really?"_ Kobayashi leaned his head to the side, waving a finger with emphasis. "Is the menace any less prevalent? Is the...Devil any less present? I dare say... ...the complacency that led six women to their deaths...still exists here today..."

"..." Victor took a deep breath, his human and robot eyes fluttering across the urbanscape until they found the distant but all too familiar shape of the police department headquarters. "... ...You're right about the complacency... ...But... ...heh..." The titanium teenager shrugged his large shoulders. "...what does that mean? Madness comes next?"

"Inevitably." Kobayashi's accent made that last word roll out like a collapsing sea of bowling pins, and yet it was still sharply succinct. His almond eyes gazed out towards the glittering amber of the humming, vibrating, living world beyond. "But the magic thing is..." And his lips curved slightly. "...is that someone foresaw that madness. And he bore the weight of it—bravely, unselfishly—so that many others wouldn't suffer from it. It was a noble... ...an honorable... ... and a saintly act..."

"Yeah, well, if it was so noble—Hao come nobody named this place 'Slack City' or 'Glen Hill'?" Victor mused, a wry grin on his lips. "Poor colonist tries to save a bunch of chicks in pilgrim bonnets and he gets his place of death named after the Devil."

"As wonderful and brave as that man was...He made a mistake."

"Oh yeah?" Victor glanced at the man.

"Hai." Kobayashi glanced back. "He chose to be a martyr, when he could have been a hero."

Cyborg blinked. "... ...Your English has been amazing so far, Mr. Kobayashi-san. But I think you've struck a synonym there."

"Oh, but have I?" Kobayashi gestured to Victor and the two of them began pacing alongside the railing of the expansive, sunlit balcony. The wind beat gently against their suits—but they marched resolutely against it, together. "To be a martyr...you sacrifice everything...and you make a point. But necessarily a difference? Yes—Six female colonists were saved, but the other...six perished. And two winters after that, there was...another horrible witch hunt—Ending in a hanging of _nine_ people. What the honorable Glen Slack...achieved in death was admirable... ...but he could have done so much more... ... ...if he had stayed alive... ...If he had endeavored...against all odds... ... ...to become a living legend... ...as opposed to a dead epitaph."

"Not all heroes are that lucky-"

"If they're _resourceful_, Mr. Stone-san, then surely they can be. At least...that is what I like to tell myself." Kobayashi's smile at this point was infectious.

Victore stared at him in interest.

Kobayashi took a breath and explained: "I am not a perfect man, Victor. I am self-righteous, stubborn, pig-headed to a fault... ... ...But I know what is absurd, and I know what is logical. And I am telling you... ...Mr. Stone-san... ... ...This City...This Devil's Jump City is not logical." He gestured towards the glistening skyscrapers towards the west and then towards the bricklaid grayness towards the east. "The gap between the affluent and the poor widens greatly with each passing year. Children roam happily in one street... ... ...when two blocks down...you have murder, drugs, and rape. Families go to ball games.. ... ...while gangs go to war with each other. This City—this wonderful and helpless City of ours, Mr. Stone—is a great, horrible victim of Complacency. I saw this...in development long before it solidified. And I wished... ...I wished ever so deeply ... ... to fix it. That is the reason I came here. I too want to make that heroic leap for this City. But I will not... ...embrace the absurdity that... ... ...keeps this City going the way it is..."

"You... ..." Cyborg stopped in his tracks. "... ...you're running for mayor. You're running for mayor because..." He gazed at Kobayashi, his jaw agape. "...because you want to make a difference. You've seen the cycle... ...the endless repetition. And y-you..." He gulped. "...you want to break the circle."

Kobayashi nodded. "A City that has been jumping to the Devil's madness for centuries...needs to be taught hao to land."

"Then you believe in it too? What I've been trying so hard to prove all of these weeks!" Victor leaned in, exlaiming in an excited, hoarse voice. "The Underworld! The Underworld is running the show! It's perpetuating the cycle of crime and exploitation that happens under the whitewashed exterior of this place!"

Kobayashi took a deep breath and solemnly shook his head. "My esteemed Victor...I do not know of this Underworld of which you speak..."

Victor clenched his jaw and glared out into the cityscape, sunken once more into the familiar sea of his personal frustrations.

But Kobayashi stepped into his the path of his gaze. "Haoever...I feel the same anguish that you do. This city is very complacent... ...very frightened... ... ...very adamant about keeping things—_as you say—_the 'status quo'. That is a very foolish and sad thing. And so long as Mayor Georgeton continues to win elections... ... ...and so long as he keeps a blind eye to the madness at hand... ... ...this City will continue leaping into its own circle of decay, until—one day—it'll take more than the suicide of children to wake people from their blindness..."

"Don't I know it... ..." Victor mumbled more to himself than to his sudden companion. "Everytime I think I have this City figured out, I'm thrown for a loop. My team's investigation of the Underworld is constantly running into dead ends. And when we start to _**think**_ that we're making progress, the ungodly gangs of this place blow up a gas station... ... ...or we're framed into..." He squirmed, giving the elder a robotic sideways glance. "...f-framed into attacking innocent people like your, Mr. Kobayashi-san."

"Indeed." The man nodded. "But is that the... ...full extent of your blockades...?"

"Hardly..." Victor sighed. "Everytime I beg for help, Commissioner Kneehouse keeps giving me the cold shoulder. City law enforcement doesn't want to lend my team a hand, even with Robin from Gotham City or Stargirl from the JSA on board—Nobody seems to trust us. Hell, I can hardly get a thumb's up from Decker—and that crummy walking coffee stain has known me and my dad all my life-" Victor blinked, his brow furrowing, and then he gazed with confused disgust Kobayashi's way. "... ... ...I'm never gonna get anything done with _their_ help, am I?"

"... ... ... ... ..." Kobayashi stared long, hard, and steadily at Victor.

"... ... ..." Victor blinked, and his fleshy features melted. "Mr. Kobayashi-san, are... ...are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting-?"

"It goes without saying that when I run for mayor of Jump City later this year, I will have many enemies..."

"Mr. Kobayashi-san..." Cyborg shook his head.

"-and when I do, I will need someone strong to lean on-"

"-I really can't promise-"

"-and so will you need...someone to lean on, in your endeavors, Mr. Stone-san." Kobayashi raised a finger. "It would be a folly to deny such."

"I'm not denying anything, I just..." Cyborg winced, sighed, and rubbed the human half of his head. He groaned. "...it's my own fault that the city hasn't been cooperating with me. And regardless of hao poorly we've been getting along—I've made a commitment to them, a commitment I'm still living up to. Just like nothing excused my assaulting you and your entourage, Mr. Kobayashi-san, _**nothing**_ can excuse my turning a back on the same group of officials whom I've already made a sacred agreement with. Please, you must understand that." He gazed directly at Kobayashi in earnest. "If I was to suddenly flipped them the bird and hop into **your** financial lap, not only would it be a slap in the face of everything that my team of protectors is endeavoring to live up to—But I couldn't _possibly _escape the public opinion that Stone Industries' heroism department is suddenly acting as a market ploy for Kobayashi Corporation-"

Kobayashi chuckled heartedly. He was vehemently shaking his head. He muttered something in Japanese, and eventually Engrished his way back to: "-Victor, my friend, I am not forcing you to join my cause. Nor am I... ... asking for your endorsement—or any form of fealty. That is typical of some of the... ...financial giants who... ...tread upon this City. But it is not _**my**_ way. I would _like _to think, haoever..." He squinted at Victor. "...that I **have** made **my** way known to you. And, in the future, if it so behoove you to partner with me in bringing justice to this City, then so be it. But think not that... ...that I might be _obligating_ you into such as a form of penance for... ...what happened on Fifth Street. Much rather..." He gestured softly for emphasis as he spoke on: "...I only wish you see as I do, haoever briefly, that to do this City any good... ...to break this 'circle', as you so call it... ...one must not give up in his quest. No, much rather, one must find his purpose.. ... ...and _live_ it... ... ...as this City may be apt to _stifle_ it. I have read the polls, Mr. Stone-san. I know that my chances of winning an election this year are slim at best. But that does not stop me from trying." He smiled proudly. "Nor do I think that... ...that your recent tribulations should... ... ...stop you from being the hero you are obviously ironclad to be... ..."

"... ... ..." Victor squinted back, a bit suspiciously. "... ...why are you so faithful in me so suddenly?" A devilish smirk. "...this really _is_ all Maddie's fault, isn't it?"

"Hrmmm... ... ...I have Madeline to thank for... ...many things, Mr. Stone-san. I only mean to say...that we are... ...mmm.. ...'kindred spirits'... ... ...Yes. I did not realize this... ...until after your father's funeral... ...when I thought that you, with your rather unorthodox treatment of your inheritance, would be gone forever—And yet you _returned_. You returned to Jump City to _stay. _Where so many others have hidden themselves within the complacency of this absurd place... ... ...You've chosen to stand on top, and to... ...make a difference for people... ... ...in spite of all odds."

"... ... ...Mister... ...M-Mister Kobayashi-san..." Victor leaned against the nearby railing, sighing and clutching his head as he gazed into the city below, a maddening jump away. "... ... ...what is it that you want from me? I don't know what to say at this point... ..."

Kobayashi placed a gentle hand on Victor's shoulder.

Cyborg glanced over at him, red eye glistening in the sunset.

Kobayashi softly said: "I want you to live... ... ...Not to be a martyr... ... ..Not to be a statistic... ... ..But to be a hero, a name, an icon. And you cannot be any of these things... ... ...if you let the boundaries that hampered the likes of Glen Slack.. ...also limit you."

"... ... ..." Cyborg took a deep breath. A tiny nod, barely noticeable. "All this time... ...Kneehouse doesn't know whom she's been talking to... ..."

"No...she doesn't..." Kobayashi shook his head. "Nobody does. Not even me. That is only for you to decide... ... ...Just as I have decided to take this City's future under my wing—So long as I have support."

"My team's support?"

"Mmmm—The people's support, Mr. Stone-san. To ask for your tribute would be... ...mmm...well, it would be a most ugly picture—Yes? I do not approve of Georgeton. And you can already guess how I feel about Commissioner Kneehouse and her... ...closed door policies. But even if I was to become mayor, I cannot expect to change Jump City overnight. But with dedication... ...with perserverence... ... ..with pushing myself to be something bigger than big... ...larger than large... ...I feel I can do something... ...that Mayor Georgeton has never come close to doing. I can...do something that none of the mayors before him did..."

"That's wishful thinking, if I ever heard it..." Victor smiled.

Kobayashi smirked back. "It is madness, yes? But a madness I am...willing to _bear_. So long as Jump City could get a chance to live like it has never lived before—To land on solid ground. It is a madness... ...a madness that inspires you as well, yes? That it is never too late-"

"-NEVER too late to start again..." Victor took a deep breath. "Mr. Kobayashi-san, everything you have said has been refreshing..." He nodded. "But you must understand-"

"I know where you stand with the City. And that is not my territory upon which to tread. But..." He paced about towards a stretch of balcony railing on the other side of Victor. "... ...I am a still a regular citizen of this place...yes?"

"Well, alright."

"Then... ...it would only be natural that... ...your team renders unto me that which it would to any othher citizen..."

"Absolutely, we-" Victor started. He blinked, a wave of pale concern washing over him. "...Mr. Kobayashi-san..." He inched over and all but whispered into the man's ear. "Do you... ..._Do you think that you're being __**threatened?**_"

The Asian businessman took a deep breath. "It would be..." He 'dusted' the railing with a stray thumb. "...quite foolish to expect otherwise. Whether or not your 'Underworld' exists, Mr. Stone, I am not one to guess. But there are...many gangs here that do not want me to...change the status quo. They want the circle unbroken, as it were. I do not so much fear for my life—as I know to respect it... ...and it would be highly...absurd to think that I am perfectly... ...safe at the rate at which Kobayashi Corp is..._hao should I put it_...'excelling'."

"Have you alerted the police force?"

"Absolutely."

"And? What has Kneehouse said?"

"She says..." He exhaled through his elderly nostrils. "...that 'she has me covered'."

Victor made a face. "Something tells me you don't believe her."

"I have no doubt in her resolve..." He turned and smiled sickly at Victor. "I do, haoever, doubt her _ability_..."

"... ... ..." Victor stood up straight. "This is it, then." He spoke with no ounce of regret, but rather a firm acceptance. "This is what you want from my team... ...as a way to make up for the incident at Fifth Street."

"But really, Mr. Stone-san..." Kobayashi winked. "Would you be doing this out of obligation...?"

"... ... ..."

"If just for one night... ... ...maybe two..." Kobayashi remarked. "... ... ...I could very well make use out of your team's services."

"Sir...you want our help...you want our protection..." Cyborg thumbed towards his suited self. "You've got it. Just say the word. Name the scenario. We're there."

"Oh...friend Victor..." Kobayashi shook his head, then stood up straight and adjusted his suit as he stared firmly at the half android. "It is not _**my**_ protection that I ask for."

Victor merely stared back...

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"They've kept me entombed in here like a freshly packed sardine..." Rali murmured, shifting a bit in her hospital bed—her arm anchored by a plethora of wires fished into the machines seated alongside. "I know I shouldn't complain and all, but I bet I'd feel a smidgeon better if I could flex my wings a bit—That's the best thing to do while on the road to recovery, right? Wiggle your toes a bit—Remember what it means to walk and trip over things? Heh..." She smiled across the dark, dreary room—her smile softly lighting up the place. Her voice was twinged with an Australian accent, spiced with a deep heartbeat of life nestled within. "...silly thing is, I'm so doped up on these chemicals they've pumped into me, I'm liable to fall flat on my stupid face the moment I take a first step."

Raven leaned over from where she stood—more like hovered—alongside the chestnut hair'd girl's bed. "You're not the kind of person to hurt yourself, Rali."

"Yeah? Deliberately or like a bloody idiot? Yeesh, Raven—I know you have your faith in me, but don't forget that I'm a total klutz."

"... … ..." Raven's violet eyes remained soft. "Are you... ..._feeling_ any better?"

"Hmm?"

"Is the pain any less-?"

"You know as well as I do that there'll always be pain in life, Raven. The whole point..." She winced as she tried with all her might to sit up. Her muscles twitched, her bandages shifted slightly. "...the p-point is to try and be graceful about th-the way you shake it all off..."

"Rali..." Raven gently braced the girl's shoulders. "Don't try to move. Not yet..."

"What, are you a **nurse** nao?" Rali smirked tyredly up at her, lying back obediently nonetheless. "I owe you my life ten times over, Raven—But that doesn't mean you have to wait on me like I'm some sort of invalid."

"I'm not _waiting_ on anyone..." Raven said with a touch of coldness in her voice. "It's been a while and...and..."

"You've got a team nao."

"... …. ...Huh?"

"Every nao and then—every few days, at least—I wake up, and the news is on this television..." She pointed a weak finger up at the monitor in the top corner of the room. "...and they're going on and on about Victor Somebody the Cyborg and this superhero team he's got going." She smiled, breath wisping: "It's you, isn't it, Raven? You're part of that team...You've got to be..."

"It's hardly important..." Raven muttered, her shoulders withdrawing into the blue folds of her robe. "It's something I'm participating with at the moment just to get by."

"It's more than that, Raven...!" Rali exclaimed. "Don't you see? You've got friends nao. If what you told me about all that which Dr. Fate said to you is true—Isn't this confirming that 'prophecy' or wutcrap?"

"They're..." Raven hesitated, then muttered: "They're _not_ my friends. Besides, I don't think we're going to be together much longer."

"Bugger..." Rali made a face. "Why not?"

"It'd take too long to explain-"

"I'd fancy knowing all about it! I've been cooped up in here for God knows hao long, I'm dying to hear about the outside world... ..Especially when it pertains to you! Especially when it pertains to you _getting involved_ with other people, instead of just the upside down half-bodied sap that is me!"

"Rali... … ...I don't care what Dr. Fate said anymore—Or what Cyborg's team has to do with any of it!" Raven exclaimed excitedly, but in a hushed whisper—Like muted screams from the abyss of some great shadow. She leaned forward and cupped Rali's hands in her own. "I stayed here in this City—_on this plane—_not for the team, not for the people here, but for **you**. I want to make sure that you're okay. I want to make sure you come out of all of this in tact!"

"... … ….And then what, Raven?" Rali breathed. She winced slightly, stirred where she lay, and continued: "Even if I was to live forever, sprout wings like an angel—What would you do?"

"... …. …."

"Raven. You need these people..." Rali smiled weakly. "You need **friends**. I love you to death—truly I do—but I can't help you with the things you need the most. But these people—These _super_ people. **They** _can_."

"I don't believe that, Rali."

"Then what do you believe?"

Raven's face curved, wounded. "I believe... ….that all the things I'm _capable of believing_ in... ...will only scare me..."

"Fear can be healthy, Raven..."

"Not if I can help it. I am many things—both wholesome and dark—but one thing's for certain." Raven's eyes hardened, and for a brief second, in a crimson blink, it looked like they both had twins. "I don't do fear."

"..." Rali stared back, boredly. "Bullshit." She throated.

Raven fumed briefly. She slid about the room, as if pushed by invisible hands across an ice-covered lake. Soon, she half-blended with the shadows, like blue sap trying to roll its way back up a tall, ominous pine tree. "I ran into the buzzard gang a week and a half ago..." Raven admitted finally, a deflated murmur from beyond the darkness.

Rali's features melted ever so briefly. "Oh...Oh my..." The impact of that confession weighed off her previously relaxed skin, pulling the tense shadows of her resolve taut as she bravely prodded her darklit companion from across the way: "D-Do tell..."

The sorceress huddled in the corner of the hospital room like a discarded flower. "There were only three of them. They were trashing a dance hall. No particular reason; they simply wanted to spread hate and mayhem."

"Did your team go Justice League on them?"

"We barely got a chance to." Raven looked over, but her face bore nothing resembling pride. "I showed my face—And all three of them instantly gave up. They surrendered." Her violet eyes squinted. "They're **afraid** of me, Rali. So long as I'm around in this City, they won't be of any harm to anyone ever again."

Rali took a shuddering breath. "I know y-you're trying to put me at ease, Raven. But if there's something I know about the human spirit, in all its ugliness; it's that you can stifle the act of violence but you can't destroy the _intent_. There will always be nasty people in this world—That's why the team this sexy _Victor_-guy has made is important. When lust and malice overflow, threatening to hurt innocent people, superheroes can be around to maintain the proper checks and balances."

"Rali-"

"And you, Raven, with all of your talents—You'd be a godsend! And I do mean what I say, girl. A _godsend_. What better way to counteract all you've been led to believe about your purpose in life than to bring joy to the rest of the world?"

"I'm not some sort of ill-begotten savior, Rali-"

"Raven-"

"It is because of **me** that you are in the state that you're in!" Raven said, firmly. She glared from across the room. "If I hadn't been born—If I hadn't entered this world and manifested my powers, you would be better off. You wouldn't be in so much pain and agony."

"Life is hardly a bed of roses, Raven..." Rali coughed but maintained her strength. "Would things have been different had you and I met? Possibly—But who's to know? You can't rewrite the past, you can only make what's best of it. And I want what's best for both me _and_ you. Why can't you see that?-Why can't you embrace the chance you have to be useful for a change instead of moping in the shadows all the time? These people—these superheroes—they can be your cohorts in salvation, and they can be your _friends! _What's so bloody important about being alone and miserable all the time that you must sacrifice a chance to embrace all this?"

"Isn't it enough that I've dragged you into the horrible luck that I hold for this world?" Raven murmured. "Must I drag them in as well? Rali...I don't want them to be my friends. I don't want them to suffer as you have. And believe me—with what's pent up with me, with what my existence _means—_a whole lot more people have to suffer."

"So what? You'll just withdraw into a lonely hole somewhere and die?"

"If that's what it takes-"

"Pffft—Don't be so daft! You've been blessed with a chance to live and make something of yourself! I see it! Dr. Fate obviously saw it! And I'm sure Victor and his mates see it too! What's holding you back...?"

"The same thing that's holding you down into a hospital bed." Raven glanced her way. "Karma."

It was Rali's turn to glare. "I don't believe in karma. I believe in grace."

Raven bit her lip. She was about to say something, when:

"_Snkkkt—Alert. This is Cyborg. Everyone meet up, on the double."_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_Not at HQ this time. Meet me in Downtown. Just outside Placid Towers."_

Inside the bunker below Phaser Labs...

Courtney, Koriand'r, and Garfield glanced up from their respective research, homework, and red tome. Their ears pricked curiously to the crackling voice of their leader—being channeled forth collectively from the whole of their communicators.

"_So you must know, the meeting with Mr. Kobayashi went well..."_

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"... ... ..." Robin knelt in the shambles of a run down apartment bedroom. Mute.

"_...but as it turns out, we've got a job to do tomorrow night. A very important job. I'll explain as soon as y'all get here. Cyborg, over and out. Snkkt."_

"... ... ..." Robin barely registered that. His eyemask narrowed on the object he had procured from underneath the thug Wes' bed mattress, per Louse's suggestion. He held the thing in his hands, fingering the length of it with uncertain green gloves.

It was a double barreled shotgun—remarkably clean and well kept. But it was not immaculate. For in three separate places, a triad of playing cards had embedded several impossible centimeters deep into the metallic surface of the weapon—rendering it useless.

Three ordinary, flimsy, paper-thin playing cards. Two of Hearts, Three of Hearts, Six of Hearts—all Hearts, all sliced into the body of the weapon like buzz saws, but still soft as dragonfly wings.

"... ... ..." Robin's lips pursed. "... ...well aren't you just magical...?"

It took a few ticking seconds of lucid contemplation, but the electronic voice of Cyborg's finally fell into a warm place in Robin's head. The Boy Wonder stood up, procured the three cards outward from the shell of the gun with only brief difficulty—And then he went about handcuffing the accosted thugs on his level of the apartment before leaving a flare on the fire escape for the police and bounding obediently away.

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**(April 23, 2004)**

The Vaughan Concert Hall shimmered with sky-slicing bands of searchlights and strobing electric excitement, highlighting its sparkling and regal placement deep within the heart of Jump City's Commercial District, bordering the glittering Bay waters off of the City's southern shore in the waning daylight.

Limousines, sports cars, and valet parkers formed a thick orbit about the place while fancily dressed citizens sauntered proudly into the revolving front gates of the auditorium, their suits, dressses, and accessories carrying an illuminescence that rivaled the musical establishment.

From the North side—following the highway—and banking east to descend upon the bright destination, Stargirl, Starfire, and Raven flew side by side.

"As excited as I am at the prospect of witnessing Terran musical art for the first time..." Koriand'r glanced aside at her two partners. "Does anyone know why this takes precedent over our search for the notorious 'Underworld'?"

"I dunno, Kory..." Courtney spoke above the rings of the sunset, as violet night sleepily oozed over to gawk at the strobe-lit gala event. "At this point, I'm just happy we're not spending another day stuck in that basement."

"It is hopeful, perhaps, that Mr. Kobayashi is holding such faith in us; that he would allow the team to present themselves here!"

"Something tells me..." Courtney clutched the cosmic rod and soared downward. "We're not gonna be _presenting_ much. So, might as well enjoy the show, right?"

"Hee hee hee..."

Raven said nothing.

"_Snkkt—Girls? What's taking y'all so long?"_

"Almost there, Vic!" Courtney replied as the three soared to near-street level. "Don't worry, Mr. Kobayashi will have his protection soon-"

"_Snkkt—For the last time! This ain't about protecting Mr. Kobayashi...It's about-"_

"Oh, we know, Vic. We know...Over and out."

The three girls soared onto the roof of the concert hall, and past a glowing marquis that read towards the bottom: _'-and performing Bach's Cello Suites, Madeline Kobayashi."_


	10. Suites part 1

**(Several Weeks Ago...)**

_Cyborg's right eye twitched, a mahogany iris encompassed by a bright blue reflection as he ducked low and slid across the laboratory floor. The room tingled with a deathly static as the bolts of electricity surged closer and closer to his dodging figure—exploding various gas tanks behind him and setting the subterranean interior ablaze. The cybernetic CEO of Stone Industries somersaulted past another electric blast and balanced himself against a wall as he switched his right arm into a sonic cannon and aimed in the direction of the maniacal zappage._

_The cacophony around him shrunk down to a low hum as he swallowed the decibels from his side of the corridor and launched them all—screaming—down the far side and towards his opponent. The metal tiles and shingles of the place warped and billowed in a straight line on the heels of his sonic outburst—but his enemy was out of sight, billowing away in a bright silver gasp._

_Victor panted, panted, glanced every which way—Then gasped at a frothing aura of hot whiteness to his flank-_

_But just as the elecrical tendrils were nearly upon him, a lithe figure clad in white body armor flipped over him, landed in a slide, and flung her forearms up—bulbous black spheres on the gauntlets screaming with a high pitched fury._

_A hole was blown in the roof of the corridor beside them, and the source of the electrical monstrosity was thrown senselessly through it—lost among the debris._

_The armored figured vaulted up to her feet—wobbled slightly—but was held in place by Cyborg's strong shoulder._

"_I owe you one, Chime!"_

"_You merely owe me a chocolate sundae once we're through with this!" 'Chime' murmured back, swallowing and peering her visor-less helmet around. "Where's Ludster gone to-?"_

"_Can't you sense him with that tech of yours?"_

"_No more than you can, Vic! He's pure electrical energy now! I can only track the burning oxygen he's displaced!"_

"_Great... ... ...knee deep in the belly of the Earth and we gotta fight thunder with thunder!" The titanium teenager exclaimed, dodging falling debris as the laboratory shook all around them. "And please—call me '**Cyborg**' while we both happen to be in butt kicking mode!"_

"_Have you heard from Robin yet?" Chime remarked as the two jogged down the corridor in the direction of the crumbling mess. "Wasn't he supposed to give us a progress report?"_

"_If there's anything I've learned about that mofo—it's to let him be his own mofo, not ask for an update-!"_

"_Aren't you worried?"_

"_Believe me, Chime..." Cyborg exclaimed in mid-jog. "Worrying is half of it all."_

"_And the other half?"_

"_... ... ..."_

"_Victor?"_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 23, 2005...Today)**

Cyborg blinked.

"...Victor?" Madeline craned her ear and pivoted, 'scanning' the room with her good senses. She held the neck of a cello in her feminine hands, the bow dangling fearlessly from a pair of porcelain fingers. "Did you bail on me again? Don't make me put a bell on you..."

"... ... ..." Cyborg took a deep breath. A flicker to his red eye, and he saw his close friend in two shades. "Naw, girl...I ain't gonna bail on you." He reached a hand over and gently nudged her chin with his big metal thumb. "Not tonight..."

"... ..." Madeline smiled proudly, her milky white almond eyes curved, matching the ivory silk of her long satin dress. A couple of breaths—and a wave of noise from a few yards away shook her back to the moment at hand, her with her musical instruments, standing sidestage to the heated aura of a spotlight—drowning upon the precipice of over one thousand rich Jump City citizens in attendance—applauding as the Vaughan Concert Hall's appointed host ran verbally over a list of accolades, and all of them in Madeline Kobayashi's name—piercing her gently with softly stabbing needles of corny embarassment. "This...erm... ..." Madeline sighed long and hard. "... ...You do realize I only do this sort of thing to make my dad happy...?"

"He can be quite convincing, can he?"

Madeline smiled. She tilted her head Cyborg's way and straightened a loose strand of black hair as she uttered: "So you mean to tell me that the entire time you two talked, he was pitching you some sort of partnership?"

"I can't quite put into a single sentence exactly what it is he 'pitched' to me..." Cyborg glanced around the two of them like a sentry, eyeing the dozens of stagehands, tech crews, Kobayashi Corp security personnel, and a press agent or two—flashing photography in their direction with a brightness lost unto Madeline, and unto himself for that matter. "... ...but lemme just say that your old man has an awful lot of respect for this City."

"Well, what did you expect? I've always agreed that my father can be a little stiff—But he's no dictator."

"Unless he expects to become mayor, blow up the public library, and erect a replica of Himeji Castle in its place."

"Vic..." She nearly hit him with the bow.

He shrugged the threat off his shoulder like raindrops. "No seriously, Maddie. I thought I was gonna have my skull turned into a metal sushi bowl. Turns out I had little to be scared of. Your father's the most sensible, righteous-minded adult I've talked to in ages. And that's saying a lot about him and so little about Jump City in one breath."

"And yet, as a favor, he didn't ask you to do the do-rag."

"Snkkkt—**NO.** No _do-rag_ this time."

"Instead he has you babysitting me..."

"Maddie..." Victor sighed and tilted his head in her direction. "It's only for one night. And this ain't no babysitting—it's a genuine, one of a kind, grade-a superhero stake out—With you in the spotlight."

"I'm not so keen on the last part."

"It's an unavoidable part. You say you're showing off your talents tonight for your dad? Well—my team and I are accompanying you _on behalf of_ your dad. But I ain't complaining. Not only is it the best job I could possibly be doing in the whole wide world..." He smiled, teeth practically humming—_perhaps she could 'hear'_. "... ...but I'd be here anyways. I'd pay my own weight in Dr. Pepper to be having a backstage pass like I've got right here. Nao that's a _lot_ of kidney stones!"

Madeline purred: "Has anyone ever told you that your voice inflects like Denzel Washington when you're full of-"

"_Snkkt—Cyborg. Is there any update?"_

Cyborg groaned and raised his forearm communicator to his lips. "No, Star Spangled Kid. Everything's going as smoothely as it was when you last asked ten minutes ago."

"_S-Sorry! I was only meaning to check up. Green Lantern always said-"_

"And this **ain't** the JSA, Stargirl! We're a small team—but still a competent one! Just hold your ground, keep your eyes peeled—And if _**you**_ see something _**come up—**_then _**you**_ _**alert**_ the rest of us. Got it?"

"_Errm...Y-Yes Vic—I-I-I mean Cyborg. S-Sorry. Over and out. Snkkt."_

Cyborg lowered his arm while Madeline's voice drifted towards him. "I thought you were trying to ease up on them as of late..."

"What gave you that idea?"

Madeline 'looked' at him.

The half-man behind the half-metal sighed. "It's been a very stressful couple of days, Maddie. Surely you don't need me to **remind** you...**Again**."

"You're not the only one stressed, Victor."

"Hell, Girl, don't I know it? I mean—With all the crap I put your father through on Fifth Street, I'm surprised you're even still talking to me! The fact that you haven't bitten my head off over the past seventy-two hours is a testimony to the Spirit of Oprah itself-"

"Vic..." She balanced the cello against her chest and pressed her fingers into his arm. "...I wasn't talking about myself. I am **fine."** She nodded her head towards the darklit rafters of the sidestage concert hall overhead. "Your friends—stationed all around us—they've been through the rinse cycle with you as well. They too are stressed."

"Right, but-"

"When **you're** stressed, Victor, at least you get the advantage of seeing the horizon while your hands are at the helm of your dream team. But your partners? They look up to you because they have to. They can't always see what you see...or hear what you hear..."

"I'm not perfect, Madeline. But I like to think I'm at least a good coach. You should have heard me last night after I met with your old man." Victor smirked into her attentive face. "I told them I had upmost confidence that they could pull tonight's mission off. I went over the guard posts with each of them, outlying their strengths and contributions to the-"

"Instilling hope is not all about the mission, Victor. Don't you think it's about the _life_ itself? About what they must do to enrich themselves between exercises?"

"... ... ...I-I don't understand, Madeline..." Cyborg squinted at her quizzically. "What am I doing wrong? I went to bat for them all with Kobayashi. I've been with them every step of the way in training. How can I show them more than I already have that they have everything to be confident about?"

"Faith is not all in the 'showing', Victor." Her milky white eyes peered past him as she craned her neck to the side. "But mostly it's in the **feeling**... ...and sharing that feeling."

"... ... ...if that's the case, Madeline..." Victor murmured, lost in his own shadow ever so briefly. "... ...then I'm probably not the team leader everyone thinks I should be..."

"You were once..." She smiled and gripped his arm once more. "Because you **shared** that feeling once before. You shared it with me..."

Cyborg sighed, his human eye shut. "Madeline..." He half-groaned. "That one night—when you and I and Robin stomped mudholes into some pretty nasty peops—that was a fantastic night, but it should never have happened. I should never have let you-"

"But the fact is you _**did**_, Victor." Madeline remarked. "You did let me—Because you shared with me a confidence that surpassed the absurdity of the situation."

"Mmngh...you could have gotten killed. It was foolish-"

"No, it was **faith**." She said. "And that's something your team needs more from you than a smoking gun to this 'Underworld', or a handshake with my father."

"... ... ... ... ..."

"_Ms. Kobayashi?"_ A stage hand with an earpiece wandered up, hoarsely uttering: "It's Wally. Kathy sent me. You're on in two."

"Mmm...Thank you, Wally."

"Ma'am..." The stagehand rushed off, clipboard in grasp.

In the silent cloud that followed, Madeline took a few lasting moments to straighten her hair, dress, satin sleeves—fiddling with her cello and shaking off the last few rivulets of teenage nervousness that broke the surface of her usually tranquil exterior-

"Knock it off."

"... ... ...I beg your pardon?" She tilted her ear Cyborg's way.

"I said knock it off, girl. You're gorgeous." He sighed. "You're always gorgeous. Just go out there and drop them dead."

She smirked knowingly. "There's no point in flattering someone who's already **right**."

"Would you like to lead my band of superheroes for a week? Be my guest. I promise you that after one day of Garfield's mania and Raven's Weakest Link-isms, you'll be pulling an Oedipus on your _ears_."

"Hmmm-hmmm-hmmm..." Madeline chuckled under her breath. "Victor... ...I have every bit of confidence in your team. I just wished that the importance of the matter doesn't make you feel like you have to drag yourself through the dirt—or your friends, for that matter."

"Maddie-"

"Because they _**are**_ your friends at this point, are they not?"

"It's still too early for all that."

"Why so, Victor?"

He gazed into a shadowy cloud beyond her ivory visage. "Because it just is. Half of my life is a dismantled pile of lost things... ... ...as if my father was dredging through the infernal cogwheels dropped off in limbo when he made me. Hell, I'm not sure if that makes a dayum lick of sense—But all I know is, my life has only half begun. I'm not sure what the new half will bring, but the only sense of friendship I feel at all—is from the old half." He tilted his face till his voice firmly fell upon her. "And that's where you belong..."

"As proud as I am to mean that much to you, Victor..." She reached forward across the darkness and cupped his cheek. Her next breath came in a whisper—like the hush before a symphony. A ringing before a bell: _"You and I both know that there's someone far more special from your 'old half'..."_

"... ... ..." Cyborg's face gently deflated. But he couldn't summon the strength to deny that.

Then, from the sidelines—suddenly booming: **"...I am nao pleased to introduce to you, performing a marvelous rendition of Johann Sebastian Bach's **_**Six Suites for Unaccompanied Cello**_**, our local mayoral candidate's own daughter and young philanthropist—Madeline Kobayashi."**

A roar of applause. The host on stage turned, clapping, as a fancily dressed assistant sashayed up and gently grasped Madeline's shoulder.

The billionaire princess grinned at Cyborg. "Well, Vic...Time to see stars!" An even more cheekish grin, and she drifted back—her fingers trailing off his cheek, as she gracefully sauntered onto stage—cello and bow in toe.

Cyborg smiled deeply, rubbing his own cheek and murmuring into the cacophony of praise that haloed her: _"Send their hearts ringing, girl..."_

Three spotlights converged hotly as one—shimmering off of Madeline's elegant dress as the assistant helped her find the lone mahogany chair in the center of the stage. She sat down with the cello perched before her, silent as a bird of prey...but demure as a swan.

In the audience that filled every contour of the Vaughan Concert Hall, faces from all walks of wealth formed a crescent moon of sophisticated breathlessness. Local city officials, corporate businessmen and women, millionheirs, fortune donators, and politicians of every angle smiled—waiting patiently—for the performance to follow.

They did not have to tarry long. With a lift of the bow and a perch of the opposite hand's fingers upon the top of the instrument, Madeline began the trademark introduction into Bach's masterpiece in G Major.

The First Suite.

Cyborg watched from the sidelines—a vigilant guardian and a proud friend all the same. With each lilting repetition of the deep strings, he felt a warmth rising within him—a shadow of the joy, he assumed, must have wafted through a certain Kobayashi-san's heart daily, so that he froze to ponder...in the midst of the joyous moment...the possiblity that he himself may almost have brought about an end to that, eliminating a contract before it was ever purposed to begin.

But Victor wasn't thinking about himself and Robin and Madeline several weeks ago. He wasn't thinking about Stone Industries or the great Purge. He wasn't thinking about a trip to Canada or a day of endless snow. His human eye rested on Madeline's cello playing figure while the robot one searched beyond, behind, beholding...

Two halves, searching...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(January 05, 2004)**

It was a football game, under the fall of a fresh evening's dark curtain. Floodlights flanking the yards, bleaches, and benches glowed white, brightly accompanying the cheering, raving droves that comprised the lively high school crowd. A tv news crew set up a platform halfway down the field, erecting a camera just in time for the national anthem and ensuing kickoff. As the home team caught the pigskin and rushed towards the opposite end of the field, the air roared with a jubilant, youthful thunder that rivaled the crashing tackles to come.

But he wasn't focusing on the game. He wasn't eyeing the line of scrimmage or the moves of the quarterback. He wasn't even oogling the cheerleaders or glancing at the high school band. His vision centered on a group of close friends in the third stand of the bleachers on the opposite side of the field, specifically on a tall, auburn-haired girl just half-a-year younger than him. She pointed towards a play, giggled with her friend, and let loose an arm-waving cheer of euphoria before sitting back down and chatting a storm with another companion next to her.

_Bleeeep-Bleep-Bleep-Bleep!_ A bright, square-shaped reticule centered around her torso, blinked, and then narrowed even further on a tiny spot of her left chest. Another diagram lit up towards the right of his vision and produced a staticky electrocardiogram: pulsing... pulsing... pulsing... pulsing. _**Bleep! **_Text appeared—(_'Identity Match Found'_)—and then produced a tiny window complete with a stock yearbook photo and a miniature bio. _'Sarah Simms. Age Seventeen. Female.'_

But he didn't need to read the bio. He blinked his human eye forcibly. _Bzzzzt!_ The reticules disappeared, and the sight of her flew far away as the meter on the bottom right of his vision read: _"Magnification 15x... 10x... 5x... 2x... 1x..."_. She was lost once more amidst the crowd of euphoria, punctuated intermittently by tackles, whistles, and trumpets.

He sighed, leaning against the side wall of the sports concession stand several hundred feet away from the thickness of it all. His faces—the metal one and the flesh one—hid under the shadow of a thick jacket's hood, as his hands were also hidden in his pockets, as his voice was hidden deep inside a dead coffin of metal.

Until...

"_Her heart still sounds like a song."_ His voice was wilted, dull, like he was purposefully botching a poem. Still, a dim red light flickered under his hood as he stared towards the general aura surrounding her, far away, and far more alive—And he turned his head away from the entire scene in a shy shrug of resignation, and a shuffling of heavy boots towards the fringes of Jump City High.

He had barely made it twenty paces when a deep voice under a haze of smoke and exhaustion hailed him from behind. "Victor. Hold it right there."

Cyborg stopped, sighed with a rolling of his one human eye, and stared down into the concrete. "Why do I get the feeling you've been trailing me every day for the past six months...?"

A tall man in his late forties, sparsely shaven, and clad in a white dress shirt with dark slacks shuffled up from where an unmarked police car was parked in front of the Jump City High media center. His loose tie fluttered in the wind as he took another puff from his cigarette, flicked ashes into the wind, and exhaled his years out against the current. His expression was tyred, unenthusiastic, yet ever so faintly laced with concern.

"I only stalk because I care..." The man muttered. "...or I suspect someone of harboring illegal substances. And both you and I know, Vic, it sure as Hell ain't the latter. Unless, of course, you've been getting high off of Mexican Duracels since the last time we chatted." He slapped the jacketed shoulder of the teen and motioned down the sidewalk with his scruffy neck. "Come on. Let's talk."

"About what, Decker? I'm not in the mood—"

"Right...Right..." Detective Decker glanced at his watch, took another puff of the cancer stick and wheezed forth: "You're a tough lil shit. You ain't in the mood to talk, ain't in the mood to walk, ain't in the mood to friggin' live. I was there before, ya know; teenaged and full of shit, just like you. That's right, you heard me. Being turned into a half-metal automaton doesn't excuse you from having a stick up your ass. I should know, I've had one up mine for decades nao. Uh uh, you ain't getting away Vic. We need to talk, and we need to talk _nao_."

"Or else what? You'd throw me in jail?" The young man frowned and tried to walk away. "Give it up, Decker. You ain't my dad."

"Funny thing, that..." Detective Decker from the Jump City Police Department pointed, caught up with the brisk pace of the youngster, and murmured forth in a nicotine'd breath. "...cuz you haven't talked to your dad in months, I hear. Nor have you talked to your Uncle Simon, or your grandparents. And then, this morning, I get a phone call that chills me to my bones, and I can't help but realize something—You haven't talked to _**me**_ in nearly as long a time."

"Just because you and my dad worked for years together during the formation of the Metahuman Defense Department doesn't make you my godfather or some crap." Victor grunted. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because the phone call I got this morning told me that—very soon—you just may become alone permanently, kid." Decker outstepped Victor, stood in front of him to stop the teen, and dropped his cigarette to the sidewalk. "Silas is in Jump City Medical." He grinded the cancer stick out with his boot. "Your father's dying."

Victor's eyes were both cold. "I know."

Decker stared up at him, head leaning to the side. "How'd I figure you did?"

"Because you've worked in this City long enough to know a lost cause when you see one." The teenager droned. "For once in your illustrious career, _drop it_."

The detective exhaled through frowning nostrils. "Kid. You wound me."

"Yeah. Cry me a river." Cyborg marched past him—

_**YANK!**_

"The Hell—?" Cyborg gasped as an iron grip yanked him down to the asphalt by his jacket hoodie._**CLANKKK**__!_ He winced, his metal and flesh skull exposed to the apathetic stars. He glanced up and hissed through gritted teeth: "You jerk! What gives? This is harassment!"

"Save me the shitty rhetoric, Vic." Decker frowned and knelt with the full weight of his body pressing through his hand held against the teenager's iron chest. "Nao you listen to me and you listen good. I've worked with your father all of your pathetic, angst-filled life. And yes, he's made mistakes—A hell of a lot of them. But no matter how much metal you've got under your skin or ice in your veins, he is still your old man. And I'll be damned if you let this night pass by just like any other."

"Then _**be**_ damned." Cyborg gripped Decker's arm and effortlessly shoved the man's weight off him with a single flick of his titanium limbs. He sat up, frowning. "You ain't got a clue, detective. You're just taking that selfish old fool's side. You have no idea what he's done to me, what he's always done to me. Ever woken up in the morning and have to take a crap out of a rusted tube in your arm? Ever had your fellow officers stop you in the middle of the street with guns and tasers cuz they think you're some goddamn robot from outer space? Would you like to trade those smoke-stained lungs of yours for a cylindrical array of oxygenated filtration systems that need to be replaced every twenty-two days? You and I don't share a dayum thing, so don't go defending him in his last pathetic minutes of life. He can spend them alone, for all I care."

"You think I'm defending him? Kid, it's _you_ I'm concerned about."

"HAH!" Cyborg stumbled to his feet and dusted himself off. "That's a laugh. Looks like your sense of humor is about as sharp as your dress code these days, detective—"

"Shut up for a damn second and hear me out." Decker frowned. He paced over towards a bug-flitter'd street lamp and readjusted his tie. "Did I have a dad who turned me into a walking toaster? Hell no. But sometimes I wish I did. It would have made it a lot easier to get back up when he smacked me around every other night."

Victor bit his lip.

Decker went on: "Yeah, pretty dayum sure you _remember_ **those** stories from Silas' company dinners. He was a real hero, my dad. He saved dozens of fellow soldiers from an enemy ambush and single-handedly defended a hill from Charley. When he got home, they all but gave him a parade down Main Street. My mother was there for his decoration, and the newspaper photos made us look like the 'All American Family'. Well, kid, I don't need to tell you that the truth is always a whole lot shittier than what popular opinion paints it. My old man shot up people to Hell in 'Nam and found that playing boxing with me in a drunken fit nearly chased the memories away. Little did he know that it'd spawn a whole fresh pile of stinkin' regret. One day—when I was a little younger than you are nao—he brought some hooker home and had the gall to tell my mother to leave the bedroom, _their bedroom_, so they could play naked tango. So, I took all of my young years of bruises and anger and finally told him how I felt to his cowardly, drunken, red-nosed face. He broke my arm and shattered a bottle over my head."

Victor was silent, kicking uncomfortably at patches of dust on the sidewalk while Detective Decker continued...

"So I left that very night and didn't talk to him for eleven years," the detective said. "I went into law enforcement almost as a way to scare him, to show that if worse came to worse and he threatened my mom again, I'd have every resource to permanently _ground_ _him..._but behind bars, like he deserved to be. You see, Vic, I spent the better part of my days—invested the greater portion of my career—entirely in the task of _hurting_ that pathetic excuse of a man who spawned me. And when I turned thirty, it finally happened. He croaked—drowning in his own liquids with a battered liver, surrounded by nurses that could barely speak English, much less understand his last-second anguished ramblings. And, no: I didn't give a shit. Like you, I was more than happy to let him suffer on his own, especially when the letters came from Mom, begging that I go see him, to which I refused."

Decker took a breath, whipped out his carton of cigarettes, and slapped it a few times before sliding out another stick. "For years, I couldn't have cared less that my father was deader than a doornail." He lit the cigarette, took a puff, and exhaled. "...and then I got divorced, and got separated from my own kid."

Victor glanced up, rubbing the human part of his head. Silent. Listening.

"Heh...My very own kid...," Decker held the cigarette and gazed at his shoes. "...beautiful, angelic Melissa. Sings like a nightingale, dances like a princess, gets a red ribbon for her third grade science projects..." Another puff. Then a deep, mumble of a voice. "Or so I'm told. Cuz this hard-edged detective was always too dayum busy trying to whip the streets of Jump City into shape to ever bother spending a single second with her. And nao my darling little Melissa—whom I'll never stop loving so long as I live and painfully breathe—hates me more than any of the crooks and rapists I throw into jail on a nightly basis. I could metamorphosize overnight from a radioactive explosion, turn into Superman, and drag Pluto down for her to go ice skating on; and still she'll hate my guts. And there's nothing I can do to ever stop that—Nor could expect to, cuz I deserve every bit of her hate." Another puff. Another smokestream. "Just like my old man did."

Victor sighed and shut his eyes. "Get to the point already—"

"The **point**—" Decker glared. "...is that the longer I live, and the more I realize the cost of love, everything I've ever worked for in steeling myself against the pain of yesteryear has seeped through that iron curtain to poison the shit out of me, more than my favorite habit. And everyday that **this** _old man_..." He pointed at his chest. "...goes to his job to do the 'right thing', I'm reminded that it all started cuz I wanted to alienate myself from a man who made mistakes—maybe worse mistakes than I've made, thank God—but stupid ones none of the same. My old man must have realized that the only person that could give him peace in his last agonized hours of existence hated his friggin' guts, and that's a torture worse than Hell, kid. And I know—cuz, at this rate, I'm headed to that same shitty fate. And it sucks not being able to do a thing about it, especially when deep down in your so-called heart you know that you deserve it."

"Sad story, Decker." Victor said. His red eye flickered. "But that may be true for you, and it may be true for _**your**_ old man...But it ain't true for me."

"You so sure about that, Vic? I mean, absolutely sure?"

"...Yes."

"You'd better dayum well be sure." Decker pointed with the cigarette. "It's been a long time since I attended that cybernetic evaluation at Phaser Labs. Remind me—Exactly how long did that scientist 'Ray' dude say you were estimated to live?"

Victor shifted nervously. He dug his hands into his jacket pocket.

"…How long, Vic?"

Victor sighed. He muttered: "Three hundred years...On one battery source."

"On _one_ battery source?" Decker leaned forward with emphasis. "So you mean you could live twice as long? Three times as long? Perhaps even a millennium if we're all still ticking and smart enough to improve on that robotic heart of yours?"

"I doubt I'll live that long."

"Bullshit. You're superhuman, Vic. Those are the cards fate has dealt you. And if I was in your position—_which I'm not_—I'd be damn sure that I could learn to live with any kind of regret that came my way. Cuz that's a hell of a long time to be living with it...A helluva lotta Hell."

Victor snickered. "Is this whole speech supposed to 'make me a better son' or some crap? You've never been one to lecture me before, detective. What are you really here for?" He looked at the middle aged man. "My dad's about to croak, and you're worried about what's to become of his legacy, aren't you? His tech, his resources, the Tower he's been planning to build..." Victor smiled bitterly. "All of that goes to _me_ as soon as he passes away. What's the matter, detective? Does that throw Commissioner Kneehouse's precious 'Metahuman Defense Department' into disarray?"

Decker took a long drag of his cigarette, never taking his eyes off of Vic's. He said: "I'm not the first volunteer to lend that feminine cement truck a hand, but, I'd be lying if I didn't say that the thought had occurred to me."

"You're a hollow, desperate, friendless punk, ya know that, Decker?" Victor frowned. "The reason your daughter hates your guts is that you never take your eyes off the 'big picture'. Just like Silas Stone, you're business first, family second."

"Funny..." Decker murmured. "I always thought I was in the 'business' of 'saving families'." He motioned with his head towards the roar of the football game behind them. "...and friends."

"..." Victor glanced towards the glow of the floodlamps. He said nothing.

"If there's one thing you and I have in common, Victor, it's that we both love this City. _Nnrgh...God help us._ We were born here. By career or by accident, we were both 're-born' here. I'd hate to see it go to ruin. And as much as your old man may have screwed up in the home, he sure as heck was priceless for wanting to carry this dayum place on his shoulders. Nao it's a crumbling mess—just like his tumorous body. And when he's gone, this City could very well die alongside him. And I hate to see three things go the way of the dinosaur."

Victor blinked curiously. "Three?"

Decker nodded. "Silas. Jump City. And you." He narrowed his eyes. "I might be obsessed with the big picture, Vic, but with whatever years I have left on this world, I hope to fix my mistakes. I'm not going to let any agenda interfere with your future or whatever you decide to do with the Stone Industries. But if you love this City nearly as much as I do, you're not going to let it crumble to pieces. You can punish your dad for all the shit you've gone through—punish me too for all I care, but I seriously doubt you could go as far as to let _this place_ go to Hell. If you could, then you're a lot worse off than I previously feared." He flicked his final cigarette and marched off. "Nao if you'll excuse me, I have to pay my final respects to an old partner of mine."

The unkempt detective walked off towards his car. He coughed once or twice. He was halfway through fumbling for his car keys when Vic's voice remarked—

"She's so happy. It's almost like we've lived completely unrelated lives."

Decker turned around and gave him a defecating expression. "Who...?"

Victor muttered, a tyred eye darting towards the football game. "Sarah Simms."

"You mean that chick you were staring at earlier?"

Victor squinted at the man. "Just how long have you been stalking me anyways?"

"To each his own."

Victor sighed and rubbed his head. "I haven't seen her since the _accident_. Everyone else I've talked to has been freaked out. I think the only reason I haven't had the guts to say 'hi' to Sarah is that I want her to stay the way I've seen her: happy, carefree, unafraid."

"I hate to break it to ya kid," Decker smirked. "But robot-freak or not, the world hardly revolves around anyone _that much_."

Victor blinked. He looked over at the man. "No. It doesn't. It's our job to hold it up on our shoulders...ain't it?"

Decker merely stared back. Then a green light pulsed over his forehead as several young voices shouted in shock and awe from the football field. Both the detective and the half-android gazed skyward as an emerald plume roared through the black night and thundered towards the heart of Downtown.

"What in the ass-spanking Hell?" Decker wheezed.

Cyborg swiftly raised a hand to his red eye, scanning. "A plasma force-field. Some sort of unearthly chemical, possibly Helenium or Bronstenium. But there are—_whoa dayum_—two life forms!"

"Life forms?.!.?"

"Yessir. One human. The other—I dunno."

"You can see all that in a flying fart?" Decker flew to his umarked car, flung the door open, and whipped out a walkie-talkie. "This is Inspector Decker to all available forces-"

"You remember what you said about loving this City?" Victor began running towards Downtown.

"_A lil busy here!_" Decker shouted and returned to his communicator.

"Way ahead of ya!" Victor smirked, dragged his hood back on, and went into full sprint just as the comet struck a distant City district beyond. _**THUDDD!**_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(****Ten Months Ago****)**

"Get on the floor—GET. YOUR. ASSES. ON. THE. FLOOR." The dark-skinned man waved an uzi at the cowering business people. He shoved/forced them to huddle into a corner while two other men carted a metal rack with an electronic array of explosives against the wall.

Near a stretch of windows, a tall African American in a leather jacket stood with a shotgun and gazed out as over two dozen Jump City police cars swiftly formed a barrier twelve stories below.

"Hey Ron! Is it a huge party or what outside?" One of the men arming the bomb remarked, breathlessly.

Ron Evers, his grip of the shotgun as tight as his concentrated face, turned towards his followers and muttered: "More like a funeral." He kicked a chair viciously towards the seven hostages, forcing them to shriek and shudder. "**LISTEN UP!"** He cocked his shotgun and marched with heavy, metal-laced boots in a circle around them. "You are no longer citizens. You are nao currency. If your 'generous' employer, James K Powers, considers you as valuable as he handsomely pays you, he'll waste no time in paying our organization the allotted ransom."

He stood before one particularly panicking woman and tilted her chin up with the barrel of his shotgun.

"However...if he's half the yellow-bellied asshole I know he is, then he'll drag his heels. Which means my homies and I are gonna send your remains sky-high, rendering this whole building to the same pile of garbage Powers has made out of District Twelve, where over two hundred families are nao living in poverty thanks to his broken promises and ignorance."

One of the businesspeople, a wrinkly blonde-haired man with an aged frown, spoke up: "Cut the crap, boy. There's no justice to this! Holding us at gunpoint like a pack wolves, you're all just a bunch of punks, you no good ni—"

_**Ch-CHTUNG!**_ Ron Evers planted the barrel against the man's forehead. "Go on—**SAY IT**!"

"..." The man stared, wide-eyed. "I-I..."

"Go and say what your white-ass was gonna say! You stupid, spoonmouthed, ignorant sonuvabitch—SAY IT!" Evers hissed. "You want me to be a punk? You want me to be some hip-hop spoutin', gun totin', bitch-tappin' rape monkey like you dream up in your sports car with the windows rolled up to keep the smell of this City out, then okay! Allow me to get all punk-ass up in your head with a lead sandwich, bitch! That the nightmare you wanna live out today? That what you want your kids to sob about at your funeral?"

"...N-No!"

"Then shut your dayum mouth and know your place, asshole!"

_**WHAM! **_He slammed the man with the butt of the shotgun. The hostage crumpled to the ground with a groan. Others gasped and sobbed. Ron Evers paced around them, calmed his breath, and spoke to the echoing lengths of the office.

"This precious 'Jump City' of yours is built on uneven pillars. Always have been. While you spoiled bastards have been enjoying morning coffees and overtime bonuses, the other half of the City struggles to stay alive overnight, to get a bite to eat, to walk across the street without worry of dirty cops or drive-by's. And I'm sure that all this comes as a shock to you-Cuz so much of the grime and the guts splay themselves in the streets up north, where you wouldn't have your white hides caught _dead_ in. But how can you possibly _live_ in a City that affords some of its people parades along the boardwalk and others unwarranted invasions of their own homes? Well, don't worry, cuz soon enough—y'all may not be living any longer."

The hostages shuddered, murmured, and cried amongst themselves over the next few minutes. As the silence persevered—save for the muted sirens emanating below/outside—the tension built up. One of the gunmen shuffled over to Evers and muttered:

"Yo, how come we ain't heard nothing yet?"

"Be patient..." Evers grumbled.

"I'm tellin' ya, Powers ain't bitin'!" The companion hissed. "He's trying to think up a scheme to save these shitheads. I say we just escape through the basement and blow this place already!"

"We spent the better part of a _year_ setting this up!" Evers glared at the lackey. "You think we're gonna give the right message turning this building to rubble without so much as voicing ourselves? We're trying to make a statement, dawg. Or have you forgotten that?"

"I'm just saying—"

"_Hey! Ron!"_

The other three gunmen looked towards the window. "What is it, Jay?" Ron asked, holding his shotgun out.

The one thug motioned out the window with his head. "I think something's up."

"If Decker's out there, he's probably got snipers being set up. Nao would be a good time to draw the blinds—"

"No, for real, dawg. You seein' this shit?"

"What shit?"

"Some tall freak in silver metal!"

Ron Evers froze. He blinked icily. "...did you say silver metal?"

"It's coming this way! And from the looks of it—" The man jerked, his gaze went up...up...up—And he jumped back, fumbling over his gun. "HOSHIT—"

_**SHATTTTTTTTTTTERRRRRR**__**!.!.!.!**_

Victor Stone leapt in through the window. In the slow motion adrenaline of the chaos, he landed in an earth-shattering crouch. Rippling waves of energy emanated left and right, sending the nearest thug to the ground.

Two other gunmen ran past Evers, waving their uzis. _**RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!**_

**P-P-P-PING!** Bullets ricocheted off Victor's chest, shoulder, and forehead. He shook the metal fragments off his head, frowned with a glaring red eye, and charged—_**"RAAAAAAUGH!"-**_WHAMMMM! He all-but-impaled one thug at the end of his fist.

The man's air left his lungs in a blink.

_SWOOOOSH—__**THUD!**_ Victor swung the breathless thug like a club into another man, collapsing them both—_unconscious_—against the wall.

"Damn damn **damn**!" Jay stumbled back up and charged Vic from behind. "Take this!" _**CLANK!**_ He slammed the back of Vic's head.

"..." Vic turned around, unphased. He headbutted the gunman. WHUMP_!_

"OOF!" Jay fell down, silent.

Victor turned—_**KA-BLAMMM!**_—"AUGH" He fell back from a shotgun blast directly to his neck. The teenager's metal skin smoked from the spray of lead.

_**Ch-Chtung!**_ Ron Evers loaded the next shell, marched over, and stood with one hand on the rack of explosives. "DUMB. _ASS_. Victor! Kneehouse put you up to this, didn't she?"

"Dammit, Ron!" Victor limply climbed back to his feet, surrounded by glass and collapsed thugs. The sirens wailed nakedly through the cold, open window behind him. "Quit while you're ahead! This ain't like your previous stunts! You're in over your ass this time!"

"You think I don't know that?" Ron frowned. "This is for real, dawg. Nobody knows that more than I do!"

"You sure about that?" Victor took one step forward but stopped at the sight of Ron's finger against the explosive's trigger mechanism. "You say in all of your ralleys and speeches that you're 'Fighting for your people'. Ever thought about what impact _this_ will have on your family? Your friends?"

"I'm doing it for them. And in case you've gotten too comfortable in that snow-white metal skin of yours—They're _**OUR**_ people, Victor. Yours and mine."

"Ron, we've been over this time and time again. I may be no sociologist, but radical acts of violence like this ain't gonna make society respect you—But _fear_ you. There's got to be another solution—"

"Hah! Like what?" Ron snickered. "Like you? Tchh-Look at you, man! Covered in silver shit and spandex, propositioned by the City to do its dirty work. You're nothing more than Commissioner Kneehouse's personal little robo-negro. And—as a matter of fact—so's been your old man all his life!"

"Knock it off, Ron..."

"Just the same old slave to the damn White Power runnin' this lopsided country of ours. Well, enough is enough. Somebody's gotta make a stand and show them how much the system sucks in our day and age. You could have joined my efforts months ago, Vic. But you were too busy supporting the status quo, you got yourself believin' in what Decker, Kneehouse, Georgeton, and every other white snob in this City believes: 'Everything's okay as long as it stays color-coded and separate'. Well that goes up into the air today along with this whole building. So back the Hell up before I take you with me!"

Victor roared: "My father's spent all his life giving to Jump City's citizens. _All_ of its citizens. The money from his research went into the Projects we grew up in, man. Why are you bringing him down all of the sudden?"

"And why are YOU defending his stupid ass?" Ron snickered. "I know how much you hate that low-life! He got your momma dead and dumped your half-melted corpse into a soup can! What have you got to defend him for?"

"You're right, Ron," Victor stood firmly. "I hate my dad."

"Damn straight you do-!"

"But there are worse people in this world." Victor's red eye glistened. "Dumber people."

"You talkin' about me?"

"Sure am. Cuz in all of your political radicalism, violent egotism, and tunnel vision, you've forgotten one thing, Ron."

"And what's that?"

"In the two years since my dad tossed my melted corpse into this 'soup can'..." Victor clenched his fist. "...I've been color-blind." _**FWOOOOOSH!**_—He suddenly flew his whole, titanium fist down into the floor. _**THUDDDDD!**_ The floor cracked, sending a ravine of shattered bulkheads swimming violently towards Ron's feet at the speed of sound.

"AUGH—" the young man tripped.

_**FWOOOSH!**_ Victor dashed towards him and back-handed his body away like a cricket ball.

"OMMF!" Ron slammed against a faraway wall.

_Stomp-Stomp-Stomp!_ Victor blurred towards the explosives, grabbed the electronic trigger in the center, and yanked it completely off the charges—rendering them inert. _Bzzzt!_ "Whew..."

"Damn you, Vic—" Ron got up, wincing. _Ch-Chtung!_ He aimed his shotgun straight at the hostages. "DAMN YOU—"

"!.!.!.!" Vic spun with a snarl and flung the metal trigger straight at Ron's forehead.

_**CLANG!**_ Ron reeled and dropped the shotgun—_**BLAM!**_—that blew off against his ankle. "AAAUGH!" He hobbled, stumbled bloodily, and fell...straight out the shattered window. "AAAAAAAAA-_AAAAAAAAAaaaaaaugh!"_ Silence, for a beat, then the unmistakable crunch of the terrorist's body landing through the windshield of a sportscar below. _**Smash**__!-Wrii-Wrii-Wrii_.

"..." Cyborg closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled. "...sorry, old friend."

The hostages murmured in relief.

Cyborg shuffled slowly, sadly over to give them a hand up.

The blonde man with an aged face recoiled: "D-Don't touch me! Y-You...F-Freak!"

"Dude..." Cyborg grabbed the man's hand anyways and forced the trembling citizen up to his feet. "You don't know the half of it." After dragging the unconscious gunmen into a corner and binding their arms, he walked out—just as the police came rushing in. "Ya don't know anything..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(One and a half years ago)**

She didn't dye her hair. It was in the burning hot thick of summer, school was _out_ like Elton John at a closet factory, and the sands practically vomited vapors of rampaging heat endlessly into the salty air. And yet—she hadn't turned her threads blonde like all her giggling friends around her. It was still a gorgeous, earth-rich auburn... ...like her voice was rich... ... ...like her smile was rich, positively cavity-inducing, with so much as a glimpse his way... ... ...but only nao in dreams.

Dreams—as that moment was the shadow of, a briefly beatiful imitation of an image locked in his hybridized brain, as he sat in the SUV, his windows rolled down, and his sweatjacket's hood raised up so as to crown the topsy turvy king of fools, this thing he had been reduced to, huddled in the driver's seat like an iceberg readying to crack in half and sink to the bottom of himself...without her...

And yet he lingered, and yet he stared, and yet he hoped—that she would turn his way with a glance, with a blink, with a gasp or a scream—anything-to summon him forth, to lure him out, as he was powerless to push himself out of the car, as he was quick to think of her voice and her laugh and her harmonious voice—and shuddered to think of all of it quaking, crumbling at the mere sight of him, of the halves that tried to make up the whole, a whole that she once treasured—or so he thought she treasured—that he had once skipped school and defied his billionaire family just to bestow upon her...

...by her grace.

And there she was. Undyed and unhindered and unnaturally natural—a match to his dreams, to his forlorn memories making sobbing doppelgangers of themselves within the funhouse mirror of laboratoried loneliness, hours upon hours in the beeping isolation, of tracing invisible lines that shaped into patterns of her against metallic celings, but none of them looking remotely as gorgeous as this, this sight, this _real life_ Sarah Simms.

It had been twenty minutes. She and her friends had parked their bikes on the beachsside courtyard just for some ice cream. It had all melted eons ago—and so soon would their conversation. He couldn't delay the holocaust any longer. He had to leap.

And so he did, ungluing himself from his SUV—one iron foot forward, careful so as not to rattle a manhole loose, to send a flock of seagulls blitzkrieging with horror into the ocean. He gently thundered forward...a ghostly Nephal upon the flanks of Jump City, poisoning the promised land between him and her in half—regretting and rejoicing every inch gained with every footstep—almost within the breath of saying her name, and begging for her forgiveness, of confessing in one songbird sentence all of the feelings he ever had for her, still clinging to the fringes of flesh he could still ache with-

And then a hot seabreeze, hilariously cruel, and his metallic crown was exposed to the glistening sun, just as two soccer moms sashayed within view—their baby carriages nearly colliding as they gasped at the sight of this sudden and most definite monstrosity:

"_Ohmigawd!"_

"_What is it?"_

"_It's some horrid thing from Metropolis or Keystone City!"_

"_Oh jeez, Oh jeez—Somebody call s-somebody-!"_

His anchored horror was only matched by a vaster iciness, as for a moment he envisioned a tsunami rising over the East and bearing down on Jump City—only it wasn't a tidal wave, but it was the slow and syrupy turn of Sarah's head towards him—like a prisoner being dipped into a vat of acid, and he wasn't there to witness it...not even for the sweet kiss of her eyes upon widening...for he was back to the SUV in a thunderous bound, starting the thing up even more thunderously, and roaring down the street before anyone else could react to—much less register-the thing at which the two mothers were shrieking.

"_Damn you...Damn you, Old man... ... ..."_ Was all the coward in him could muster, seething and grabbing for his sweatshirt's hood—yanking it over himself, nearly blinding him to oncoming traffic, though he barely cared...as he steered viciously alone into the cold breath of tomorrow. He was sweating a fountain, his metal and flesh parts glistening in the sheer moment of what almost was, what could have been, but all the while: _"You can build me pores, sweat glands, a dayum tube, but you had to come short some place..."_ He grumbled, caught a glimpse of his dry self in the rear view mirror, and sighed momentarily into a red-tinted darkness as he surrendered to one eye and one eye alone. _"Damn you, old man..."_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(****Two years ago****)**

"_Oh m-my god..."_

"_Wh-What is that...thing?"_

"_Did it just escape from Phaser Labs?"_

"_Look away, honey. Look away."_

"_Somebody call the police!"_

"_Holy Crap! What the Hell is that?"_

In the center of Bayside Plaza, people gasped and spread every which way...staring, gawking, blinking…

At him.

Him, who gleamed all over. Him, who clanked with every step. Him, who saw everyone staring at him—And simply stared back, scowling.

Shoppers shrieked and leapt out of the way as if he would trample them. Mothers ushered their children into the nearest shops, peering out. People on bicycles and skateboards stopped altogether, flanked by clusters of silent, jaw-dropping high schoolers who were no less numbed in fear and curiosity...

Only one person said anything, and he was frantically chasing after him—His gray head poking sweatily, breathlessly out of a ruffled labcoat. "Vic! Victor...Victor, come back here at once!"

He didn't respond. He marched forward, undaunted, his metal limbs glistening in the sunlight.

"Victor! I mean it! Your circuitry isn't entirely ready to handle weather effects! You could short out and collapse out here!"

"Then let me." Victor muttered, marching across the Plaza. Away from Silas Stone. "Just a matter of **time** before any _machine_ breaks down, right?"

"Dammit, young man! I could have hit a button and deactivated you the very second you left the transport, but I didn't—"

"And **what's stopping you?**" Victor spun around, his yelling voice echoing across the plaza. "It must be easy having a son nao that you can just switch him off at the touch of a button!"

Silas Stone leaned back from his angry son's huge girth. He glanced left and right, nervously. "No. Victor." He wheezed. Quietly. "N-Not out here. Not in front of everyone—"

"YES, Dad! Right here—In front of everyone! Let them all see your proud creation! No more hiding it, let's let the monster out of the gate!" Victor turned, roared, and grabbed an eating table from the floor—ripping it loose from its chained restraints. _SNAP!_ "**Citizens of Jump City**!"

"Victor—"

"**Reel in terror** at Silas Stone's latest technological **achievement**! The amazing, **metal **_**teenager**_!" He slammed the table straight down into the concrete, eliciting distant shrieks. **"RAAAUGH!**" _**SMASSSH!**_ "Enjoy it, old man! You worked realllllly long and hard. It only cost mom's life!"

Seagulls flew violently away. People gasped. Someone muttered about calling the police.

"Boy, I loved her more than you could ever know." Silas fumed. "And the last thing she'd have you do is parade yourself around like a madman—"

"My **mother...**" Victor glared at the scientist. "...raised a young gentlemen, whom she loved, and was allowed to live the life that he wanted. But **YOU—"** He pointed a whirring, metal finger. "—couldn't settle for anything but a carbon copy of yourself, who'd dance in step to your scientific legacy. And so you experimented on me, crammed me into study course after study course, ruined my dreams of joining the athletics department at school. And if that wasn't enough—at the first chance you get, you program me into your personal walking furniture. Bet it's all easy nao, huh? Tchh." He turned to march off. "Give it up, old man. You can make a better son out of a refrigerator."

"Dammit—Victor, I saved your LIFE!"

"**LIFE**?" Victor once again reeled while all the Plaza's people watched in tense silence. "You call this **living**? Face it, Dad. I'm just another one of your dumb-ass experiments! But it's just as well, ain't it? You cared more about it then you ever cared about me or mom—And that's why you let _**her**_ die; it's much better spending the time and resources to make me what I could never be by my own choice!"

"Victor—"

"Because you KNEW...YOU KNEW, old man, that never in a damn heartbeat would she let you get away with **this**. Well, congratulations, dad. You're just what you've always worked to become: an old, unloved, heartless egghead whose accomplishments outweigh the fools who still pretend to love him. So guess what?-you just lost another." He clenched his fists and backed out into the nearby street. "I'd tell you how much I hate you, but that'd give you the illusion that I ever loved you to begin with. Go jump off a balcony, you selfish, cold-hearted, prick."

"Dammit, Victor—_LOOK OUT!_"

"Huh-?"

_**HONKKKKK-**__**CRASSSSSH**__**!**_ A huge UPS truck slammed full force into Victor's titanium shell of a body. Glass, shrapnel, and chunks of aluminum flew every which way. Victor's body, haoever, didn't budge an inch.

People gasped. A few brave souls ran towards the crash, chattering and shouting and squawking to 911 on their cell phones.

"All right...All right...Back off, everyone." Vic motioned them back, grumbling exasperatingly, and tore his fists into the smoking wreck of a van. _CRKKKK-KKKKT!_ He ripped a hole in the front compartment of the crumpled truck and safely pulled the bruised body of the UPS driver out.

"Hmmph..." He performed a scan of the man's body. "No broken limbs, but it'd be a good idea to get him to an ambulance to have that head checked out. Looks like a slight concussion, according to the neural scan."

The people stared at him. Silent.

"Okay, **LOOK!**" He growled. "I'm **sorry!** Just stop gawking at me, okay? Get him out of here already!"

Silas Stone rushed up. "Don't be afraid, everyone! I-I'll pay for all the damage. No need for everyone to call the police—"

"Dad, _can_ it." Victor grumbled, a hand over his face. "You're making it worse."

"Fat load of good you did, walking into the street like a fool—Not ALL of you is invulnerable, son—"

"Stop pretending like you care about what part of me is left to hurt."

"And stop making me into a demon!" Silas shoved a finger into the teen's chest. "If it wasn't for me, you'd be a hunk of half-baked flesh suspended forever in a protein bath!"

"Yeah, and if it wasn't for you, I'd be in a much better place right nao!" Cyborg frowned, grabbed the man's fist, and painfully wrenched it away. "I know what you're trying to do, and you're not fooling anyone—Especially me. You want redemption for mom's life. But it's not going to be that easy. And you know why?"

"..." Silas merely looked away, silent, rubbing his aching hand.

Victor bent over and hissed in his father's ear. "Because no matter how much money you cram into me—How much tech you pour over me—How much you try to keep the Stone family alive with circuits and styrofroam, it won't changed the fact that _you killed_ it. That's right, old man. You're a family-murderer. And Mom? She won't be waiting for you where you're headed after all is said and done. And neither will I, as a matter of fact. So shut me down, if you like. It won't turn the nightmare off..."

Victor swiveled about, and marched away.

Lost in the shadow of truck smoke and aluminum ashes, his father remained. Cold and alone. This time, he didn't bother chasing after his son...or what used to be his...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Two and a half years ago)**

There was a hissing noise. All around. The smell of roasted meat. Then a sterilized kiss of steam, like an icy current against the hiss—and then he realized that the hiss belonged to him, in that it was burning...something's flesh was burning..._his flesh_-

"**Snkkt-haaack—hackkkaaa-aaaauhg...Waaahaaa-AAAAA-HAAAUGHHH-BNNNGHHHH!"** A single eye opened up. Panting. Panting. Panting. Panting. The bloody world darted left and right. Blinking things. Steaming things. Coming into focus. Metal and metal and steam and metal. Tendrils dipped down into places where his ribs used to be, where his toes used to be. Where his genitals used to be. A bubbling liquid funnel, a spark of flame—and the hissing increased as steam rose from something that resembled the shell of a teenage left leg, almost severed..._being severed-_**"Hckkk-HAGGGHAAAA...Huhh...Huhh...Huh-HAAAGHHH!"**

"_Snkkkt-Body temperature is rising, heartrate accelerating-"_

"_What?"_

"_My god, he's coming to."_

"_Jesus—Increase the dosage, we're not ready for transfusion-"_

"**Hrckkklglgsst—Haaghhhh—Mmmmo...M-Mmmmo...MMM-MMMmmomma! Nnnkkt-Momma!"** A fountain of worms boiling down his neck. His vomit. Bubbles of red and pus. The one eyed darting world—a familiar face bounding towards him, dizzying—a pair of reflective glasses showing a half digested scrap of life twitching back in twofold. **"Mkkllt-Mommaaaaaa-Ahhha-aaaa-aaaughhhh!"**

"Victor. Victor, listen to me, Victor." The spectacle'd thing garbled. "I know it hurts. I know it hurts, Victor, but you have to _**remain calm. **_We—I am halfway through the process of containing your vital organs—(_**Hunnicutt! Get the doseage already!)**_-And I just need you to hang in there a little while longer. I'm n-not going to lose you, do you hear me-?"

"_**Mmmn-gyaaaaaa-HRGNNNKkkkt-"**_ A bloodied stalk batted his hand away but the man re-gripped the metal table.

"I mean it, son! I love you and I am not going to give up on you-"

"_We're losing them **both**! We need to sustain the protein bath-"_

"_**Nrkkkt!"**_ At that, the world darted every which way—past the glaring lights, the hazy crimson aura of **hurt—**and then he saw it, a hanging it, a pulsing and throbbing...thrashing it... ... ...suspended in a giant glass tube of bubbling liquid... ... ...an it with no head, an it with no limbs, an it with half a torso... ... ...

... ... ...but he could swear she was looking at him.

"_**Snkkt—Hrakkk...Dad...srkkkt...Dammittt-Haaaahnntkkk"**_

"Vic—Please. All is not lost."

"_**Hrkkk...mmnnghh please...Kill her, Dad-Hgrhhakkk-"**_

"I need you to have faith, son."

"**Hnnngh—AHhhhhaugh—no, stop-"**

"I need you-"

"_**Hnghh—Dammit, Dad—KILL HER!.!.! Hnnnkhaahaaa-"**_

"_Got it! Got it!"_

"_Acceptable doseage."_

"_He's going under! He's-"_

Red.

Then black.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(**Three Years Ago….)**

"Mom! Come on! Come **on**!"

Victor panted, sweat pouring down his dark skin as he tugged her along with him. He knew that he could move faster than that—run like a cruising motorcycle. Years of covert wrestling matches in uptown gynmasiums while his father was slaving away at Phaser Labs gave him a super-soldier's physique. But for their sake..._for her sake..._he had to pace himself.

"It's gonna blow! We have to go!"

"Victor! Your father—" She panted, tripping as she stumbled to follow along. Elinore Stone looked behind them at the half-barren parking lot surrounding the countryside laboratory. "He needs my help! He can't close the Quantum Gate on his own—"

"He's doing what he can to buy us time!" Victor all but dragged her to the family car. "We've already called Dr. Ray! They'll send the help Dad needs nao—Dammit, mom! Take those heels off already!"

She peeled her shoes off and ran after him, barefoot. "But we can't just leave him!"

"Just who opened that stupid portal to begin with?" Victor frowned, fumbling for keys, panting—

"Victor..."

"No time to argue, Mom. He's done it this time. We're gettin' the Hell outta here." He yanked the door open, flung himself in, and opened the door for her. "Get in! Getingetingetin—"

She all but collapsed into the seat. No sooner had she dragged her feet in—Victor was already pulling the car in reverse. _**SCREEEEEECH!**_ Gravel flew. The tires smoked. He spun the wheel and the car hurled around till it stopped, facing the gates to the laboratory complex.

"_Open the gates_!" Victor shouted.

Elinore Stone fumbled over the controls. The gates' alarm went off. The fence refused to open.

"Damn it! What gives?" Victor sweated.

"I think the security system's gone into effect!" Elinore uttered. "The computer thinks that there's an intrusion on the premises."

"Intrusion my ass! There's a frickin' portal to Neptune or some place exploding inside the place—That DAD opened, might I add—"

_**Brrrbbbmmbmmbb!**_ The earth shook. A puff of flame flashed and flickered out of the windows of the laboratory. Both mother and son glanced back through the rear of the car.

"Oh Jesus, God in Heaven..." Elinore panted. "Silas...my Silas..."

Victor breathlessly glanced back, forward, then at his mother. "Mom. Buckle up."

"What are you doing, Victor—?"

"Hold tight!" Victor tensed and slammed on the gas. _**VRMMMM!**_

The car reeled, then soared straight forward towards the gate.

"N-No, Vic!" She shrieked and held onto her seat, flinching from what was beyond the windowshield. "That fence is high tension! We can't break it!"

"What choice do we have?.!.?" He grunted.

_**VRMMMM-CLANNNNNG!**_ The car stopped hard against the fence, bending and bulging it—But not breaking through.

"Nnngh!—Vic!" She gasped.

"We'll get through!" Victor panted and backed up before once again. "We've got to!"—_**VRMMMMM—**__**CLANNGG**__**!**_

Again, the fence bent, shattered a bit, but didn't break. Sparks flew off the support beams as the electrified wiring twitched all over.

"Come on...Come on..." _**VRMMMM-SCREEEEECH—**__ScrkkkkScrkkkkSCNKKKT!_ He forced the car against the fence but it fought back, barely creaking and rattling. "Come on. _Come on_."

Elinore took a deep breath. "Victor..."

"We're getting away, Mom. I promise you—"

"Victor, if something should happen..."

"Nothing's gonna happen! We're gonna get out—"

"I just want you to know that I love you."

He glanced aside, eyes twitching, then back to the wheel. "I know you do, Mom. Nao let's just focus on—"

"And your dad loves you t-" _**KAPOWWWWW!**_

The laboratory exploded behind them. But it just didn't explode, it took the ground with it, and the parking lot—bowling up and outward like plasma oatmeal—and in less than a blink—

_**THWOOOOOSH!**_

The car was lifted up. At first, Victory didn't know how high—Until he saw the horizon flip a few times, and he saw—in the briefest of blinks—the bent shape of the outer fence several hundred feet away. Then the weight of the car pulled it down nose-first as it barreled back towards the Earth—Only it was no longer the Earth, but a quivering wave of quantum energy. Bolts of plasma emanated from the bowels of what was once Phaser Labs—but nao all destroyed, except for a single, impervious bunker..._where he was..._

"Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus save us—" Elinore shrieked against the fingers of gravity.

Victor gasped for air—finding nothing but the tongues of flame. He twitched his head to the side. "Mom—" He turned. He stopped. Time slowed for an instance. Beyond his mother, the ground yawned up, and straight through her shattering window came a bolt of plasma, hot, cold, blue—But turning red just as soon as the woman's body exploded...

...and rained all over his screaming face.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(**Three and a half years ago****)**

_Stomp-Stomp-Stomp-**THUD!**_ A meaty arm fiercely clothselined Victor, so that the teenager went comet-colliding down into the springy mat.

"**OOF!"** He exhaled in a purposefully sharp punctuation of his collapse, the bright hexagonal lights of the gymnasium spinning above his spandex'd figure in a muted howbeit definitively real _pain_.

"_**Ohhh—The Rookie just can't get a break! How is Stony Victorious gonna stand straight after that vicious clothesline?"**_ The voice on the loudspeaker crackled defiantly over a rising tumult of roars, cat calls, hissings, and methodical chants that rose in a bloodthirsty halo above the heads of a disheveled audience. **_"Never mind that shiet! Jonny Too Kool is going in for the kill!"_**

A strong hand flew down and grabbed a clump of Victor's wooly black hair. The aching, sweating teen slowly hobbled up into his opponent's grasp as he was 'forced' into a vicious 'headlock'.

Jonny Too Kool hissed, panted, swallowed, and leaned into Victor's ear as he mumbled discreetly into the headlock: _'Belly to body suplex. Then armbar, then switch.'_

_'Got it'_ Victor murmured twice as quietly—Before being grabbed, hoisted up into a spinning world, and bodyslammed hard once more into the mat. _**WHUMP!**_

The Lower Metropolis Gymnasium roared in cheers and boos equally, as the audience lifted to higher and higher levels with each violent impact. The announcer's table rocked in the pounding enthusiasm while Victor was being raised to his feet and twisted painfully with his arm held backwards in a vicious armbar.

"_**Jonny Too Kool is reaching way deep into the playbook for this one, folks! Hah! What a way for the challenger to be robbed out of a chance to win the Northeastern Championship Belt! Can he summon the intestinal fortitude to wrench himself out of Jonny's iron grip-"**_

Victor snarled through his nostrils, his face wrenching dramatically, and then—both of his brown eyes flared—and he dug his feet into the mat. _"Snkkkt-"_ And he backflipped, uncoiling his arm within Jonny's grasp like a rubber band, and jumped a second time, reverse kicking his opponent in the sternum and breaking the armbar.

Jonny flailed wildly, fell into the ropes, bounced back—and fell right into Victor's arms as he raised the gasping man and mercilessly dropped his groin straight into his knee. Jonny gasped long and hard, crossing his legs and limping—almost comically—until Victor bounced off against the rope, leapt, and slammed Jonny down to the match with a sailing body press. The gymnasium thundered with the canvass' impact, accompanied by a roar of arm pumping fans—and soon Victor himself was leaping back up to his feet, one athlete joined with the endless exultation.

"_**WOW! Stony Victorious with a comeback out of friggin' nowhere, reminding Jonny Too Kool of their previous matchup in Gotham City! Jonny was able to come out strong there—But will he lose his KOOL tonight?"**_

Victor panted, panted, gazed with animal frenzy at the crowd, and raised two fists trogether before pounding them side by side straight over his head. Alone in the center of the ring, Jonny reeling, and the referee circling, Victor chanted two words-

But the crowd beat him to it: 'BOO-YAAAA!'

"_**What's this? What's this? Is it—? YES! He's going to do it! Looks like Stony Victorious is setting Jonny up! Look out, Too Kool! You're between a stone and The Hard Place!"**_

Again, Victor chanted. And again, the audience replied: _'BOO-YAAAA!'_

Victor grinned. This was his moment. He kneed Jonny hard in the chest. The opponent bent over. Seething, Victor hooked his round fists with Jonny's elbows and made to hoist him up into a modified powerbomb-when he hesitated, blinking, a face that melted out of character at the sight of...

...Silas Stone. Two cops. All three of them, appearing like a burning ember in the middle of a field of dirty snow—marching slowly, solidly, liquidly down an aisle of soiled folding chairs, their eyes locked on Stony Victorious, _Silas' eyes_ locked on Stony Victorious—the angry and disgusted glare piercing through to Victor's suddenly shaking, teenage bones.

"... ... ..." Victor lingered five seconds too long, summoning a confused gasp—then a mutual groan from the audience.

Against his chest, a confused and writhing Jonny hoarsely whispered: _'Victorious-? What gives...?'_

"..." Victor gaped. The sweat on his face doubled. The ache in his limbs receded from a cold, ghostly deluge that engulfed him-

"_Victor-"_

_"Counter..."_

"_Wh-What?"_

Victor made like he was 'struggling' to put Jonny into the powerbomb. _"Counter...then clothesline, then a sleeper hold."_

"_Victor-"_

"Do it!"

"Nnn_**NNNNGH!**_" Jonny _overpowered_ Victorious, batting his arms away, popping him twice in the face with an open fist, then grabbing his far arm and plowing him roughly to the ground with a murderous lariat.

_**THUD!**_ Victor gasped, sputtered—not quite prepared for it, a saliva trail of rookie patheticness mixed with blood on his chin—**_GRIP!_**-and he was hoisted into Jonny's headlock, painfully from behind. The referee closed in, shouting, measuring the length to which Jonny's sleeper hold was 'knocking out' Victor.

The Referee leaned in and hissed: _'Victor, what gives? Are you hurt?"_

The teen hissed, glaring through the ropes, past the audience, towards the glare that refused to wrench itself from him. Silas Stone, the end of that evening, the end of everything, the uninvited curtain call to anything Victor endeavored to live beyond the programmed box of his existence. He had no idea hao Silas found him, but he did. And there was no leaping over this hurdle. There was no ascension here. There was no-

_'I'm gonna job to you...'_

_'W-What...?'_ Jonny hissed into the back of Victor's head, employing the arts of a veritable ventriloquist. _'Dammit, Victor—This was your big push. Don't chicken out nao-'_

_'I mean it! The belt stays. I lose this!'_

_'It's not even the third bit'-_ Jonny grumbled, 'wrenching' Victor's neck more to the referee's pantomime prostests as the audience tossed to and fro around the ring. _'What about the plan-?'_

_'Counter my Irish whip into the turnbuckle then do your finisher'_ Victor's head was bowed, but still he felt a pair of burning eyes into the top of his skull. _'I promise I'll put us over.'_

_'Dammit...Dammit...**Dammit**—'_ Jonny Too Kool released his grip of the sleeper hold and telegraphed a german suplex-

-giving Victor the opportunity to counter, reverse kicking Jonny, gripping his neck, and dropping him to the mat with a DDT. _**THUD!**_ Victor got up immediately to his feet—and just as the referee stepped close to him, he snarled and swung his arm out—flinging the referee clear across the mat.

The audience gasped and roared as the referee reacted dramatically.

"_**Whoah! Out of nowhere, a beast rises from within Stony Victorious-!"**_

Victor snarled, his face growing increasingly animalistic. He turned, marched over, and proceeded to repeatedly stomp a flailing and yelping Jonny Too Kool, helplessly bound to the mat. _THWUMP! TH-THWUMP! WHUMP!_

"_**Oh no! He's lost it! Stony Victorious has totally lost it! If there's anything he hates—it's being put in a sleeper hold, and he's making Jonny Too Kool pay for—What's this?.!.?"**_

Victor marched over to the turnbuckle and—with angry hands—started unlacing the turnbuckle pad, whipping it loose and exposing the metal. The referee came, clamoring, in a desperate effort to 'stop' him, but Victor merely shoved him so hard that the referee got entangled with the ropes. With the metal of the corner exposed, the rookie athelete roared his catch-phrase at the crowd—but only got a rising series of _boo's_ and _jeers_ in return. With a look of pure murder on his face, he proceeded to march over and lift Jonny up by the scruff of his neck.

"_**Oh no—Don't do it, Victorious! You have come this far so clean! Don't ruin your career by doing it this way! Look out, Jonny-!"**_

Victor took a deep breath, yanked on Jonny's arm—and flung him towards the turnbuckle-

-only for Jonny to counter midway, flinging Victor violently towards the weapon of his own construction, so that his forehead banged hard—_really hard—_against the iron turnbuckle. _**SM-SMACK!**_

The crowd shuddered, wincing and hissing.

"_**OHMAHGAWWWD!"**_

_Th-Thwump!_ Victor flopped unceremoniously to the floor. While Jonny reeled above him, the young teenager dipped a pair of fingers strealthily into his armband, produced a tiny sharp object, and slashed it straight across his forehead. By the time he stood up, a thick river of blood oozed down from his skull. He blinked dazedly, reeling...staring thinly through the estuary of crimson that lit up the crowd like a roman candle.

Achingly, he stood up on a pair of wobbling feet and sold the bloody injury, gazing out...out...out...until he saw him...

...and Silas looked back. The endless glare. The stone-set eyes.

"... ... ... ..." And Victor grinned. Grinned through his blood. A chuckle nearly escaped from his red-stained teeth, when suddenly Jonny's arm wrapped around his neck, and Jonny's foot wrapped around his leg, and the blood-splattered air roared through his vision, ripping the sight of Silas away—as Victor was slammed down hard by a modified Russian legsweep.

**THUD!**

"_**Oh god! The Crash for Cash! And..."**_

One pound.

A second pound.

A third-

"_**Jonny wins! Jonny wins! His trademark finisher to a vicious and out of control Victorious, and he retains the Northeasten Championship belt! What a crazy comeback! This crowd is going nuts!"**_

A convenient truth, for the air was on fire with a dead heat of mixed boo's and exclamations. All too quickly, a crimson-faced Victor rolled under the ropes, and landed on his feet—_plop!_-until he was standing nose to bloody nose with his father.

"... ... ..." Silas stared.

"... ... ..." Victor smiled.

"... ... ..." Silas turned away.

"... ... ...?" Victor blinked.

Unemotionally, Silas motioned to the two police officers, and walked away. The cops just as mutely stood beside Victor's flank, until the teenager witlessly followed in his father's footsteps—not so much under coersion as he was tethered to a nub of perplexity, centered upon his father, mesmerized over the lack of a reaction Victor had so endeavored to create...so that the throbbing chaos of the gymnasium and the confused utterances from fellow athletes did nothing to jar Victor out of his decisive march out of the arena, out of his Victorious Career, and into a parking lot under the cold haze of Metropolitan night, the cold dog-barking hiss of Suicide Slums all around, as father and son stumbled as one to a black limousine.

"For the next half of the semester, you are being home-schooled." Silas said with finality, a one sided conversation. "You're not to leave the Corporate Headquarters. You'll be watched at all times."

"I'm your son. Not your prisoner-"

"You'll resume your mathematical studies. You'll resume your astrophysics major."

"Dad-"

"And you'll resume the chess club, starting tomorrow night. I don't care if you have to wear bandages on your head-"

"Hey—_**SILAS."**_ Victor growled.

Silas opened a limousine door. "... ... ..." He pivoted to gaze boredly at his flesh and blood.

The teenager smirked at his father under the leaking red. "These last few months I've had?" He spat happily. "You can never take _**those**_ away."

"Fine." Silas coldly nodded. "Treasure them for what they'll give you...For what it's all worth."

Victor chuckled. He hoisted himself into the car-

"Ohgod—_Victor!"_

-and into the gasping, horrified face of his mother.

"... ... ..." Victor blinked, frozen in place, his eyes wide at the sight of her grimace.

Elinore Stone stared back, recoiling in her seat, her quivering lips announcing the utter shock at seeing her mutilated son's face.

And it was then that Victor shook...and Victor heaved...for he realized then and there that _his father won_. He roped his mother into this, brought Elinore there to see Victor hurting so bad in an attempt to hurt Silas and Silas _brought her_. As he had always _won through her_. With every furious jolt of energy in Victor's body, he wanted right then and there to rip the car in half—but not even all the muscle and flesh in the world could grant the flimsy teenager a titan's anger.

So he slumped down in the car—opposite his mother, opposite his father—and the ride home was like that, a perfect equidistant triangle of concern, remorse, and regret.

And it would follow them all the way home.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Four Years Ago)**

"Boo-Ya! Made you fumble!" A fifteen year old Victor Stone shouted.

"Nuh Uh!" Sarah Simms scooped up the football in her hand.

"Well, if you insist!" He grinned like a devil and dove into her.

"ACKKK!" She giggled as he playfully tumbled into her and sent the two sprawling down a grassy knoll in West Park. Behind them, the glistening skyrises of Jump City sparkled in the blue sky. "No fair! No fair! You totally didn't have to do that!'

"What, are you _complaining_?" He wrestled with her for the ball. "I thought you argued all day that football could be a woman's sport!"

**WHUMP!** In a second, she dragged his leg out from under him, twirled the two of them over, and got the upper hand. "Hehehe..." She smirked triumphantly down at him. "...you were saying?"

He blinked.

She blinked.

The two of them suddenly did the sane thing and _blushed_ at their predicament. So they disentangled, sat up, and chuckled off the few scant ghosts of cooties.

"Heheheh...You're crazy, girl."

"You're the one who brought the pigskin." She twirled the football in question with two nimble hands and tossed her auburn hair aside. "Your dad's gonna kill you, ya know."

"So what?"

"Well, doesn't he want you to be attending some sort of mathematics seminar right nao?"

Victor smirked. "You give my old man too much credit and me too little." He slid over and smiled close to her. "His son, in all his 'invested genius', reprogrammed the school schedule so he could get into football tryouts."

"Ppfft! You are so impossible!"

"Mmm...Aren't I, nao?"

"Don't press your luck," She stuck her tongue out. "If anything, you're proving you're just as good an egghead as him."

"Ughhhhh!" Victor clutched his heart and fell back into the grass. _Fwomp!_ "You wound meeeee!"

"Awwww...Hehehe...I didn't mean it! C'merrrre..." She slid over on top of him and gave him a dear hug. "Mmmm...So glad you could be here today, Vic."

"..."

Sarah was concerned at his silence. "...Victor?" She got up—

"Shhh..." He put a hand on her shoulder, maintaining the close embrace. "...your heart."

"...What about it?"

"It's got a nice beat to it."

She smiled. "Really, nao?"

"Mmmhmmm."

"Most guys like to compliment a girl's eyes...Or her hair." She turned her nose up.

He stroked her chin and smirked. "Can't a guy like a girl's heart?"

"Heh...Gawd." She rolled her eyes. "That's the first rule in the Book, you know."

"Did you write that Book? Cuz it's a good rule." He smiled. "I like your heart, Sarah. I couldn't dance to any other beat."

"Ohhhh Vic..." She sighed and hugged him. "Human to the last."

"Hah...You don't know the half of it."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Seventeen Years Ago)**

Infant Victor gurgled, a tiny hand clutching Elinore's finger.

She smiled, a warm face, warm moist eyes. Silas leaned in, hugging her from behind as she rocked the little boy in the apex of the family of three. The trio swayed in the center of a dark-lit nursery, the walls dotted with glow-in-the-dark stars and comets.

Until...

A gentle humming, a dip of the fluttering evening, and she lowered the child into the crib, tucking him in with a songbirdish breath and a kiss.

Then, arm in arm, Silas and Elinore drifted out of the room—two photographic sihlouettes in the hallway light—and in a snap they were gone, allowing their son to drift off...

...giggling before a slumbering flight amongst the stars.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(**April 23, 2005...Today**)

Nearly through with the Sixth Suite, Cyborg found himself touching down with the gentle ministrations of Madeline's bow against the cello strings. He exhaled long and hard, a thousand glowing embers filtering out of him, dying with the one-eyed blink of yesterday's weight.

Then the bone chilling creak of the moment pierced through the heart of the Vaughan Concert Hall, pricking his ears through the crackle of his communicator:

"_Snkkt—Cyborg! Robin here! We've got trouble!"_

Victor jumped, nearly pratfalling into a gasping stagehand. He raised his forearm to his lips. "Cyborg here. What gives-?"

"_We have an attacker! Somewhere in the building!"_

Stargirl's Voice:_ "Oh my god."_

Starfire's: _"X'hal!"_

Beast Boy's: _"Dude, hao in the wide world of sports do you know that-?"_

Robin: _"No time! Cyborg, you've got the eye! Scan all around you on multiple wavelengths!"_

"On it!" Cyborg raised a hand to his red eye and tilted his metal head out, covering the stage, the balconies, the seats, and the rafters with spectrum upon spectrum of visual sweeps. "I swear to God, if someone's trying to take out Maddie-"

Robin: _"Snkkt—It isn't Madeline! It's-"_

Raven: _"Front in center."_

Robin: _"Cyborg-"_

Victor froze. _"I see it!" _His jaw dropped as a vectral reticule zeroed on a blur of a human figure up in the rafters—and then revealed a hot orb of fiery plasma erupting, sailing, hurdling—straight down, toward the audience, and into the beating heart...

...of Kensuke Kobayashi.

"_Dammit—NO!"_ Cyborg leapt-


	11. Suites part 2

**(Several Weeks Ago...)**

"_The elements are all scattered about us. Hrmmm... ...Yes. A woman who is supposed to be dead, arrives incognito into the Heartland of America—the very home of her political and philosophical adversary—and she asks for help from a nubile member of her beloved's rival team to assist her in the search of something that is 'precious' to her, so precious that she will not even relay a hint of the thing's identity, assuming it is a thing. But when do we know women to travel halfway across the globe because they've lost a **thing**? No...I would much rather say it's a **person**. Women will do all manner of things for a person—Hrmmm, not that I'm one to personally testify."_

_The figure stood before a bizarre collage of images, photos, headlines, obituaries, and newspaper clippings—all strung together in a schizophrenic structure of desperate purpose and geometry._

_He swiveled about to face her. "The plan is simple. You do everything she asks of you and take as many notes as you can. I would very much like to see every bit of those notes, but that is not my place to ask. This is, after all, your search, and not mine."_

"_**My** search?" Courtney Whitmore gawked incredulously at him from across the hotel room. "Look, sir, you roped me into this meeting. All I wanted was advice—and maybe a few answers."_

"_... ... ... ..you do know who you are talking to, right?"_

"_No. Not really. I don't." The blonde folded her arms and frowned. "And all that considered—I'm to accept the fact that you're telling me to go through with a scavenger hunt for this mad woman?"_

"_People are as mad as love, commitment, and a good bowl of soup will lead them to be. Honor, dedication, alliance—Those are all abstract words invented to gloss over the fact that people, deep down, only hold true to their own personal convictions. You should know that. After all, what happened in Jump City wasn't a slumber party. Or did Green Lantern actually give you the go-ahead to fight extraterrestrial lizard men instead of rendezvousing with the Justice Society like previously ordered?"_

"_Uhm...I-I..."_

"_By the way, the alien lizard attack was prophecied years ago in an album by The Doors. Jim Morrison had more connections than the spirits of dead Native Americans-"_

"_Okay—Look—You're seriously beginning to creep me out! No offense, but—A woman from the Middle East nearly running me over with a limousine, mysterious lightning storms across Nebraska, a bunch of missing kids from across county—Tell me, what does it all really amount to? And, for that matter, why should I bother to go any further with you on this?"_

"_Hrmmm...that is the question."_

"_Uh... ...wh-which one?"_

"_Why, the one that matters the most to you, of course."_

"_... ... ..."_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 23, 2005...Today)**

Stargirl blinked.

She hovered high in the rafters of the Vaughan Concert Hall, her body planted acrobatically in a sitting position atop the hovering cosmic rod that Jack Knight gave to her. With a long, deflated sigh—she gazed down at the hundreds upon hundreds of heads gathered thickly in the audience. Her blue eyes scanned attentively, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anything dangerous or awry—using skills that Green Lantern had taught her, which Cyborg had perfected.

Cyborg...

Courtney winced slightly under her mask, the half-android's words still ringing sharply in her mind. She shuddered to think of the cold kiss of their tone, and tried—instead—to distract the listless hemisphere of her brain with something else. Her lips and tongue danced mutely, reciting mathematical figures that she had to have down pat in order to e-mail to her calculus teacher the next morning.

The City was wracked with crime, an Underworld loomed somewhere threateningly, and Kensuke Kobayashi's daughter needed her superheroic protection—and yet she was still pressed to get her homework done.

The cello strings gave her a meditative cadence around which to weave her below-breath mantra, but even that—all of that—was briefly interrupted by a musical chime that lit her ears. A blink, and she reached down for her communicator, raising it to her hovering visage.

"St-Stargirl. I copy."

"_Dearest Courtney, have you witnessed anything from your vantage point?"_

The blonde smiled, her braces glistening from a nearby studio light. "No, Kory. The coast is clear. Nothing horrible to report."

"_Alas, that is the same from my position as well. Do not judge me rash to inquire, but could we be redudantly employed in the act of staring down a collective evaporation of charged water molecules?"_

"... ... ..." Courtney blinked. "... ... ..are we 'watching a boiling pot'?"

"_Affirmative."_

The blonde giggle. "I swear—Starfire, are you seriously _trying_ to sound so adorable?"

"_Do not tease me! I am still helpless to understand the reasons for accurately stating your Terran phrases in one way and one way alone!"_

"Perhaps you're just being the wise one of the bunch, Kory..." She gazed down at the jet black cranium of Madeline Kobayashi far below. "So many people are slaves to cliches. It'd be a crime for superheroes to be so as well." She shifted her weight on the cosmic rod. "As for what we're doing here—Yeah, I know it seems rather pointless. Heck, I could be using this time to get some much needed homework done."

"_Your educational system is curiously merciless."_

"Not all that far from the truth."

"_If our time here is so pointless, then surely Cyborg has an ulterior motive."_

"You heard what he said about his meeting with Mr. Kobayashi. We're here as a gesture of good faith and partnership."

"_The corporate businessman is nao our personal ally?"_

"Uh... ... ...Well, Starfire, I'm not entirely sure. I mean—I could have sworn I saw some of Kneehouse's people outside when we arrived. So, it's not like we're the only ones here offering the guy and his daughter protection. But-"

"_I am pleased at the honorable nature of this favor we are doing. It seems a most appropriate way for us to make up for our error of judgment when we assaulted Kobayashi's entourage."_

"I don't think it's that simple either, Kory."

"_What do you think, then, Courtney? Because nobody has endeavored to tell me..."_

"I think that Cyborg and Kobayashi have known each other long enough to see that this City requires saving on the nitty gritty level..."

"_Nitty... ... ...Gritty?"_

"Don't get me wrong. Commissioner Kneehouse and the JCPD do some really awesome things for this City. And as bad as things have been, it would have been a lot worse without the police force. But—The thing about people like us, superheroes—is that we can get in deep, into the little details of this City's problems—and fix stuff that others can't. I think Kobayashi realizes that. And so, he's reached out to Cyborg, and Cyborg shook his hand. Both men have found each other in the same train of thought..."

"_And what train is that, do you suppose?"_

"My aren't you Socratic today, Kory."

"_I beg of your pardon?"_

Courtney giggled, but then cleared her throat; "Cyborg and Kobayashi are willing to look at the tiny details of what needs to be done here in this City. And us being here is a start to that-"

"_But would we not be better employed at the time being with our persistent chase of the Underworld?"_

"That's just the thing, Starfire..." Courtney murmured, her ears pricking as Madeline's cello strings changed in pitch, moving into the second half of Bach's Prelude in D minor.

The Second Suite.

"A lot of times, you can't let yourself get swallowed up by the Big Picture."

"_You believe that, Courtney?"_

"... ... ..."

"_Courtney?"_

"... ... ..."

"_**Star Spangled Kid?"**_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(January 05, 2004)**

"Hmmm?" she glanced up, attentively.

"I can't thank you enough for returning this to us safely," Dr. Ray remarked, his voice echoing across the basement of Phaser Labs. The young scientist took the metal container from her and cradled it like a fragile diamond. "The robbery that happened several weeks ago put us _years_ behind in researching the effects of Project Schwarzer Geist. There are over a thousand people in Europe today—descended from victims of that Nazi paranormal experiment—who are suffering to find a cure to many horrible, hereditary ailments." The technician adjusted his specs and smiled up at her. "Because of the Justice Society, those afflicted people may live long enough to see their grandchildren completely, utterly cured, along with themselves."

She leaned against the cosmic rod and smiled—teeth full of braces. "I'm honored and excited to hear that, Doctor. But the proper thanks goes to the rest of the team—my mentors and such. Hehehe—I'm just the deliverer."

"Oh, I'm sure you had a marvelous part to play in this artifact's rescue." He opened the container's lid slightly, glancing at what rested within: What seemed to be a half-century old vacuum tube, quivering with an unearthly black mass inside..._Clap!_ He shut it and took it over to a large vault. "Wildcat himself once told me that your modesty becomes you, Star Spangled Kid."

She rolled her blue eyes and smiled. "Wildcat is known to say many things. And please, doctor, just 'Stargirl' will do."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry!" He shut the vault_—HISS!_—and strolled quietly back across the basement, his hands resting in his labcoat's pockets. "I must not read the headlines much these days. I thought—"

"I know, I know," she sighed. "I'm dropping the whole 'Star Spangled' thing. It's quite a mouthful anyway. Besides, the rest of the team agreed. The 'Stargirl' moniker is more appropriate, especially considering who gave me this." She twirled the Cosmic Rod, hit a switch, and collapsed it into a tiny cylinder inside her gloved hands. _Cl-Cl-Cl-Cl-Clack!_ She stowed the remarkable trinket away in the center of her Cosmic Converter Belt and placed her hands on her hips. "Ta daaa." She blushed at her own cheesiness.

"Astonishing!" the young man gaped. He stroked his goatee'd chin, smirking. "You _must_ let us here at Phaser Labs examine that marvelous device someday. I've always read about the technological masterpiece of Jack Knight, but never had the chance to see it up close."

"I'll see about paying a more informal visit next time," she glanced around at the various experiments, instruments, and diagnostics tools spread throughout the subterranean interior. "I've always wanted to spend some off-time along the East Coast—especially here in Jump City. With the likes of Phaser Labs, Star Labs, Powers Inc, and Kobayashi Tech—This place is a technological haven!"

"I take it you have the bustling young mind of a true-blue-scientist." Dr. Ray smirked.

"I'm more attracted to history than the sciences." She glanced aside and her finger tapped a retractable magnifying lens atop a table. "But, the child in me often wonders." _CL-CLANK!_ The lens fell loose to the floor. With a girlish shriek, Stargirl juggled the thing, caught it, and gently placed it back while biting her lip. "Among other things..."

"Quite alright." Ray chuckled. Then a sigh: "Jump City is a place full of promising research. But, it's a shame that half of the young populace here is too busy trying to keep their heads intact to bother with exercising their intellectual might."

Stargirl winced visibly. "It's...uh...It's _that_ bad, huh?"

"I'm exaggerating, of course," Dr. Ray shrugged and walked over to a workbench where he filed a few papers and slid them under a clipboard. "Though, I would be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of Metropolis, Gotham, and the rest of our sister cities. When Vandal Savage stole the Schwarzer Geist components last month, the Justice Society answered in hours flat. The Flash, Green Lantern, Hourman, Mister Terrific—a whole lot of you were suddenly here and scouring the City blocks for evidence. Having so many heroes at once in any part of the City was wonderfully refreshing. I swear, crime stopped for half a week right afterwards."

"Y-Yeah..." Stargirl clutched her arm and looked towards the ground. "...it's the l-least we could do."

"Again with such modesty!" He chuckled and glanced back at her. "I've read the headlines. Just last week, wasn't the Justice Society responsible for helping the _Justice League_ defeat another invasion of Starbreaker?"

"I wasn't there for that," Stargirl shuddered. "Green Lantern and the others said it was 'too dangerous for me to t-tag along...'."

"Still, your team and Superman's _did_ save the entire world from total annihilation," Dr. Ray remarked. He paced over towards a distant table to reposition a piece of lab equipment. "I hesitate to wonder just how many times in a given year such near-apocalypses actually happen!"

Stargirl shut her eyes beneath her blue facemask and murmured just out of earshot: _"What good is stopping the apocalypse when the all people left alive only suffer...?"_

Dr. Ray craned his neck back towards her. "Wh-What was that?"

She reopened her eyes and smiled innocently: "Sometimes it's the 'little pictures' that matter more than the 'big picture'."

"Jee, I dunno," Ray chuckled, pacing back. "I kinda like not having my Sun devoured by a hideous space vampire."

"Hmm...You and me both." Her eyes trailed.

Dr. Ray stood there for a beat. He was silent, quizzical. "Are you doing alright, Stargirl?" He looked at her, concerned. "You seem spaced out—If you pardon the pun. Eh-heh."

"Tracking down Savage to get ahold of the 'Schwartz Guts' thingy took a lot out of me." She yawned. "Nnngh...I'm going on thirty-six hours without sleep at the moment."

"Story of my life!" Dr. Ray smiled proudly. "These experiments just won't finish themselves, you know. I've lost my alliance to slumber over a decade ago. Heh heh heh..."

"Then I don't envy you." She smirked. Something resembling a curtsey, and she stepped backwards towards the elevator. "If you will excuse me, Doctor, but I have to get back to my headquarters."

"Much thanks again, Stargirl. Godspeed."

"You too...uh...'Eureka Away'!" She turned, exhaled, and proceeded to ascend the elevator.

The trip through the bright, white metal halls of Phaser Labs was slow and solemn. Thoughts were ringing through Courtney's head—throbbing with the exhausted anxiousness baked into her soft, blue eyes. There was a fidget to her fingers—twiddled together—as she made her lone exit out of the labs and into the cool, spring night outside.

The roar of a gigantic highway overpass just four stories above her claustrophobically drowned out the rest of Jump City's nocturnal commotion. She was immediately aware of barking dogs, graffiti stains, and random burning trash barrels in the extremes of her peripherals. A depressed breath escaped her, and she stayed put there...far away from home...and yet ten times as anchored to a single place than she had ever been before.

"..."

Stargirl glanced over her shoulder towards the West, towards where Jump City's skyline shrunk into green parks and quaint suburbs. There was a dividing line—exactly where, she could not quite put her visual finger on—but at some spot in the urban sprawl of it all, the City knew when it had to transform from frightening to pleasant.

Not even a minute had passed, and Stargirl took notice of a family of four, wandering hurriedly across a sidewalk with a grocery cart full of impoverished belongings. They made brief notice of her costumed figure across the street and—in a throttling burst—quickened their steps like frightened quail.

"This City deserves more." Stargirl murmured. A burst of frigid air kicked at her long blonde strands. She brushed them back, suddenly immune to the cold. "All of it."

Another burst of air. But by the time Stargirl was straightening herself out—the burst turned into a tumult, and nearly sent her reeling onto the concrete floor below.

"Aaackies!"

_**SHOOOOOOOOOM!**_

A huge, burning comet of green energy went sailing overhead, shaking the overpass, Phaser Labs, the sidewalk—All of Jump City's Western District. Stargirl parted her tossed hair just in time to see the meteorite hurdle along the last mile of its trajectory and land somewhere Downtown in a huge burst of green thunder.

_**Boooom!**_

"Uhm...The _fluff_?"

_SNkkkkt!_ There was a crackling sound, followed by a familiar, authoritative voice. An old voice. A voice she had gotten to know, respect, and sometimes fear: _"Stargirl. Come in."_

A bit flustered, Stargirl shook off the cobwebs of comet-awe and answered the communicator built into her glove. "Yeah, Lantern. I'm here."

"_Did you finish the delivery yet?"_

"Uhhh..." She stared at the distant, green glow of Downtown.

"_Stargirl?"_

"Yes, Lantern. Dr. Ray at Phaser Labs got the stolen device back. He said that he can continue the Experiments...erm...and stuff."

"_Well done. Nao get back to HQ as quickly as you can. We're having a mandatory meeting to resolve the recent defeat of Starbreaker."_

"Uhhh...I-I'd love to, b-but..." She marched firmly towards the distant glow. "I think something's come up."

"_What's come up?"_

"There's something going on here in Jump City. Some sort of fire in the center of town. And I think something just landed from—"

"_Is it a life-threatening blaze? You know they have firefighters there just like anywhere else-"_

"Yeah, sure. But can't I just—"

"_Snkkkt—This is __**important**__, __Courtney__. Starbreaker has been knocking on Planet Earth's Door. We need to take as much time as we have at our disposal to prepare ourselves for the inevitable. Tonight, Mister Terrific is going to lecture us on some new plans to scan for Starbreaker's future attacks."_

"Y-Yeah, I know! Starbreaker's bad and all that stuff. B-But-" Stargirl gestured helplessly towards the green blaze in the distance. "I swear, I just saw-!"

"_Stargirl, Remember what I told you about keeping your focus on the Big Picture…"_

She frowned, breathing heavily out her nostrils.

"_Courtney? Stargirl, are you there? Come back to HQ immediately—"_

The green light billowed in the distance, across the forest of buildings—both grimey and mysterious, a literal sea of places and people that Courtney knew only from a distance, from spotting them like ants while flying in formation with Stripsey and Green Lantern overhead, from the news reports taken at the scene of a battle she had just abandoned—bare minutes before—just in time to avoid the cleanup, the backdraft, and the aftershock of a superpowered surgical strike—all because she was young, vulnerable, and all because she was told when was a time to begin and when was a time to finish things she never had a gloved hand involved with in the first place.

And then there she was, stripped down to her own resources, alone, sound-minded, and soothed to clarity by the clean-slate kiss of dark, january nightshadow...inking down all around her on that suddenly frightening moon of moons.

Never before had Courtney felt so scared and so inspired at the same time. It felt bizarre, alien, disturbing.

It felt _right._

"I'm sorry, Green Lantern. But I'm going to be a little late."

"_What? Didn't you hear what I said—?"_

She slapped her palm, cutting the conversation short. Her march turned into a sprint. In mid-run, she swiftly reached to her belt, pulled out the cylinder, and jerked it to the side.

_**CL-CL-CL-CLACK!**_

The Cosmic Rod extended, locked into place, and glowed its hooked tip in a golden pulse. _**VRMMM!**_

Stargirl leapt, aimed the Rod forward, and flew along the length of it like a missile towards the green fire in Downtown.

She didn't hesitate. Ten speeding blocks later, it still felt right...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Eight Months Ago)**

Her eyes should have been closed. She knew that it was the best way to concentrate, to narrow her mind and soul into a single beam of focus, for Him to collect in the palm of a Shepherd's hand. But, in spite of all her strength—all her faith—she couldn't bear to close her eyes, even in prayer. For everytime her lids closed, she could still see—with a freshness like yesterday's copper scent—the shadowy sihlouettes of things forever taken from her...

And of faces...

It was almost a _blessing_ that the gentle thud of chapel doors echoed from behind to interrupt her. She tilted her eyes up, squinting, at the reflective gold glow of stainglass filtered light bouncing off a tall brass cross hanging over the alter before her. Footsteps increased, intrusive—but non threatening—until they ended just to her left side, standing next to the pew.

An obligatory silence, and then _his_ warm, cherishing voice: "Hey, pumpkin..."

Courtney muttered back without looking. "H-Hey, Pat."

"Maxine said that you would be here. I'm not even sure why I had to ask her... ...You've been here nearly every day this week..."

"I... ...I hope y-you're not saying that's a bad thing..."

"Heh heh, no, Court. It's just that-"

"Did you want to sit down?" Courtney mumbled, still not looking his way.

"Hmmph...Sure thing-" Pat Dugan paused in mid utterance, staring quietly as Courtney moved a pair of crutches down to her side of the pew, allowing her stepfather a seat. "...Hrmm..." Pat slowly sat down beside her, not hesitating to take in the sight of the plethora of bandages formed around her left stub of a leg. "... ... ..Courtney, I do believe it's important to maintain a close fellowship with God. But there are more than one way to commune with Him. He gave us fellowship for a reason..."

"I've been to every family dinner this month..." Courtney remarked, running a hand through her hair and sighing. "That's the least I can say about Mike."

"Mike is Mike. We both know that. This is about you, Courtney. And if you're hurt over what he said last night-"

"'You enjoy the attention you get from being the sacrificial lamb'." Courtney unemotionally repeated her stepbrother's poisonous words into the sanctuary's air. "I'm not half as insulted as I am shocked that he could manage such a complicated statement."

Pat chuckled. "He's been hitting the books, at least. I'll give the boy that-" He winced at his own branch of logic, groaned, and turned to face her: "Look, Courtney-"

"I'm past crying about myself." She mumbled. "I'm through with feeling sad for the things that have happened to me. So if you're worried that what Mike said has torn me apart on the foundation of my sensitive girlish feelings—Don't bother, Pat. _'Sacrificial lamb'_..._Really?" _She finally turned to thinly gaze at him. "I only wished he knew hao badly he was making himself look. I'm a superhero, Pat. I've been one half my teenage life. I know what to expect in this big, scary world—But I'm no lamb..."

"Courtney, you've been through a lot, sacrificed a lot, given up...g-given..." He choked on his own words, gently stroked the top of her shoulder with a fatherly hand and managed through a veil of adult male fortitude to say: "... ...y-you've given up far more than I had ever hoped for, back when...b-back when I finally gave in and let you fulfill your destiny..."

"Both you and I agreed it was **_my_** destiny to fulfill, Pat..." She murmured. "But it's not because I'm second guessing that or because I'm regretful that I've been here..."

"Then what brings you here, Courtney? Mary, Maxine, Jakeem—they all miss you. They wanna hang out with you—not out of pity, but because they miss their close friend..."

"Do you remember what I was like when you and Mom first married?" She blinked bluely at him.

"Heh..." Pat smirked. "Of course I do. You were angry, bitter, antisocial, caustic, you had issues with Barbara, and you had even more issues with me falling in love with her-"

"I was a **bitch**." Courtney exhaled.

"Watch the language."

"Oh Pat, come on-"

"I mean it. We're in a House of God."

She sighed, her head nestled in folded arms against the back of the pew before her. "... ... ...But it's true. I was... ...I so was..."

"But you're different nao." Pat leaned back, his arms stretched against the seat behind him. "You've grown up so much over the years. You've eased up, learned to be happy, become responsible-"

"It's nice to know that you believe that...and to some extent Mom..." She tilted her head up and gazed boredly at him. "But is that Whom I'm really trying to convince...?"

Pat squinted at her quizzically.

Her eyes darted towards the altar and back.

He took a deep breath, frowning: "Nao where would we be all the time if we took for granted His love?"

"Love isn't always about forgiveness.. ... ...Though God has done enough of that to make a religion out of it..." She gazed up towards the stain glass windows. "You read enough of the Bible, and you begin to realize—He wants someone to prove herself. It's not enough to bow on one knee, or to recite a prayer of penance... ... ...I mean, if it were, the world would be full of Christians, but no good people. Am I right?"

"That's an interesting way to look at that-"

"Is that all you have to say of it, Pat?" She briefly frowned. Her eyes thinned as she murmured: "People have died. People have died _around me_. People whom I used to lov-..." She exhaled and gazed down to the floor, running a hand through her blonde threads. "...people who meant a lot to me. Who had my respect, my admiration... .. ...And from directly around me, they were taken."

"And it's horrible, Courtney. A horrible thing that you lived through, but you and I both know that this ain't the perfect world that God first created-"

"Sin blankets it. I know." She glanced up once more. "And hao much of that is because of my sins? Because of the things I used to do, the way I used to be, the way I used to treat others-"

"Courtney-"

"Is it possible God's trying to teach me something about myself that I've taken for granted?"

"I like to think that God tests us by granting us strength, not by dousing us with suffering."

"And yet... ... ..Here I am." Courtney said, sitting up straight and resolute. "Not because I was strong that one day in the Capital, Pat. But because I was **_lucky_**. I was lucky, where others weren't. So what am I missing? In God's methodically planned world, what have I done that I need to _fix_...?"

"Courtney, when I first invited you and your mom to Church—It was because I wanted you to find the joy of Christ's salvation in your heart, not to develop a complex of guilt and condemnation. Yes, horrible things happen to all of us—But to analyze everything as a potential sign of God's displeasure, well, that just ain't healthy! And it's not what I ever, _ever _meant to convey to you. Because I love you—just like God does. I know it may never feel _that _simple at times, but I assure you—after having lived a life of confusion and painful things—it really is that simple."

"... ... ... ..." Courtney fiddled with a few fissures in the wooden finish of the pew before her. "There are some people in this world who.. ...who revere Black Adam as a god. If someone that powerful and that strong-willed on this planet could be so merciless, what does that say about Someone who spends all His time in Heaven?"

Pat frowned, but for far too long. Because he hadn't the time to formulate an answer when-

_**FL-Flash!**_ A green coil of light unraveled, revealing a tall, muscular, senior aged man with graying blonde threads and a dark eyepatch. Standing in his red spandex and green cape, Green Lantern gazed across the church aisle until his one narrowing eye fell upon the Star Spangled Kid.

"Stargirl. There you are. We're having an emergency meeting in less than an hour to discuss the whereabouts of the League of Assassins members who attacked the Library of Congress last week."

"For pete's sake, Alan...Can it wait?" Pete swiveled and frowned at the superhero. "Kind of having a father-daughter moment here..."

"Would you like to come too, Pat?" Alan stared. "You know there's always room for Stripesy on the JSA."

Pat glared. "That's...not the **point**-"

"It's okay, Pat..." Courtney stood up on one hobbling leg and picked up her crutches. "All I was doing here was sulking anyways." She brushed past her gaping stepfather and limped on the instruments into the aisle. "Besides, I only ever do my serious prayers on the school bus these days."

"Courtney, please—I would like to talk to you more-"

"And you'll get that chance, Pat, I promise you." Alan raised an aura of green with his ring as she stood within the halo of his presence. "But for the time being, we have important business at hand."

"And this isn't important-?.!.?" Pat all but spat.

"Tell Mom I'll be a bit late to dinner tonight..." Courtney said, a hint of last second shame. "I'll make it up to her later this week. Just—yanno-important superhero stuff."

"Yeah..." Pat sighed.

_**FL-FLASH!**_ In a green sphere of energy, Lantern and Courtney levitated out of the church and into the bright blue afternoon.

Pat slumped down into a pew and hung his head. "... ... ...I know you will, Courtney..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Ten Months Ago)**

The Star Spangled Kid couldn't breathe. She huddled, alone, clutching the cosmic rod to her chest. The teenage superhero had been buried twenty feet beneath a smoldering pile of rubble, and her desperately strobing shield of gold was the only thing keeping eight solid tons of concrete from squashing her into a pulp.

But that wasn't why she was crying. She could have died any second—could have been reduced to dust in one last wailing breath. She wasn't crying because the last time she heard Pat Dugan's voice over the communicator, he was screaming in pain. She wasn't even moved to tears over the last sight of Hawkman, lying in the middle of the street with a lamppost superhumanly impaled through his torso.

No, the Star Spangled Kid was crying because she saw—above and around her, just beyond the shimmering shield of the cosmic rod protecting her—the deathly still arms and limbs of a dozen innocent civilians; those who had been crushed by the debris above her, those who had been caught in the way of the enraged Kahndaqi King's rampage, those whom she had failed to save...

...she had failed to save them, because she had been ordered to keep her eyes on the main mission, the **big** picture...

_'Seize the Amulet'_

Stargirl sniffled. Through a curtain of dust and tears, she glanced down at the nucleus of her fetal position—an ancient Egyptian artifact being clutched in her gloved hand—glowing from the resonance of a nearby magic.

An angry, corrupted magic...

As long as she was buried there, hidden—so was the amulet, and so was the safety of everyone on the Eurasian continent within three hundred miles of the nation of Kahndaq.

Or at least such was explained to her. Mr. Terrific's and Green Lantern's briefing seemed to make a lot more sense before the explosions, before the screaming, before the fireballs, bolts of lightning, and the angry death threats shouted from the heavens to the street pavement below, towards her even, as she dove like a blazing comet to grab the jeweled necklace—even as he brought down the wrath of gods to annihilate her, and took out an entire hotel building in the process.

She wasn't dead. She knew it. And she knew that _he_ knew it.

_He_ would find her.

_He would find her..._

It was just a matter of time.

A sniffle. A hiccup. Courtney raised her mask just slightly above her brow and squinted through the gold aura. The space between the clumps of rubble her grew darker and darker. The hellish earth croaked and groaned around her as the fresh grave settled, oozily collapsing into a dense death—one that she would have to share with the bodies of families and children merely inches above her.

For the first time in as many years as Courtney could remember, she didn't bother praying for her life. Hao on Earth could she possibly deserve-?

_**SCRKKKK!**_

The girl gasped.

_**BRKKK-CSCRKKK!**_

The rubble above her parted and shifted. A powerful force was barreling down through it, towards her.

She shrieked. One hand cradled the amulet. The other snaked around the stalk of the Cosmic Rod and fumbled for a sweating microscend before finally hitting the center button of her communicator. "G-Green Lantern! Green Lantern! It's C-Courtney! Black Adam's f-found me! Oh God, Bl-Black Adam's found me! I can't-"

_**KRAKKK!**_ An impossibly huge glove burst through the last ceiling of rubble and reached for her. **_CLAMP!_** It broke through the golden shield like tissue paper caught the nape of her upper jumpsuit.

The Star Spangled Kid barely had the breath to scream. The wormhole patch of earth that was her grave flew away like a retreating nightmare, only for her to be thrown violently into the blazing sunlight of a new hell-

-and that hell melted into heaven upon the first clear glance at the mask of the person who had just yanked Courtney to freedom.

The blonde's lip quivered. "A-Albert?"

"Thank God..." Atom-Smasher exhaled. He dropped her to her feet as the two stood atop the mound of rubble of what was once a ten-story hotel. "Took me forever to find you. When Wildcat had said you dove for the amulet, I was starting to think-"

She flew forward and clung to him, burying her face in his chest. "Sh-Shut up, Albert! Just sh-shut up! I don't care about the stupid amulet! I-I just don't care anymore..."

He nearly stumbled back from her feather-light embrace. A few fleeting seconds...His powers reverse, and he shrunk down to normal size, his teenage chin to her sobbing forehead. "Kid? Kid?.?" A beat. He raised his facemask just enough to expose his mouth. "_Courtney_..." He whispered. _"We can't stay here like this. You've got the amulet. You gotta take it back to HQ where we can hide it in containment-"_

"Please, Albert. You have n-no idea!" Tears streamed down the Star Bangled Kid's eyes. She wiped a sleeve on her cheek and gazed forlornly down at the rubble beneath the two. "I...I-I let people die to get this thing..."

"You did what you had to do..." Atom-Smasher murmured, looking worriedly over their shoulders. The sites and sounds of Washington DC stretched around them, only they were grossly marred by several huge craters, flaming buses, and even a smoldering tank or two as the U.S. Army was also powerless to fend off the Kahndaqi's rampage. "If he gets that amulet, his powers could multiply, and he'd be stronger than Superman. You had no choice-"

"Yes I did!" Courtney squeaked, a bitter frown burning forth from her otherwise shivering figure. "Did it really have to come to this? Did we have to _fight_ him over something so small? So pathetic?" She gulped and hugged him again. Tighter. "Albert, we could have _saved_ these people..."

"We have no time to debate this, Courtney...You heard what Alan said! Black Adam could start World War Three! What else should we do? Just _give _the amulet to him?"

She stared up at him. For once, her eyes weren't tearing.

Atom-Smasher's lips pursed. He shook his head. "Okay. No. Enough of this. Just go, Courtney."

"But-"

"You've got the amulet. You're our best and only air support. Fly it back to HQ, quickly! We'll worry about blame, guilt, and all that stupid crap later!"

"Albert-"

"**Courtney**," he added in a firm but hushed tone, leaned down, and tilted her chin up to stare deeply at her. "I don't want you to be the next casualty-"

_**SWOOOOSH—CLANGGG!**_ The metal body of Stripsey fell in a long arc and landed violently beside the two. Sparks flew and a pained voice of a middle-aged man groaned from deep inside the grey shell.

Courtney screamed. "**P-Pat**!"

"Oh my god." Atom-Smasher said, turning to look _up_...

She too glanced aside; she gasped, a hand over her lips.

Black Adam hovered down to his feet, his majestic arms crossed, not a scrape or speck of dust on him. His frown carried the venom of an entire hemisphere. The sun glinted furiously off the golden lightning bolt emblazoned across his dark tunic as he glared down at the two superpowered youngsters.

"**Wrong god."** He replied to Atom-Smasher. His head tilted like a rumbling mountain, and the air above the American warzone boomed with each word uttered: **"I've come for my Beloved's treasure. Every sinner who so much as blemishes it with their touch shall be treated no less mercilessly than the heathens who murdered her."**

"Albert..." Courtney began to hover, prepared to fly away with the treasure...

Black Adam's face remained still as stone. He stared at her. The concrete beneath his levitating figure bowled inward as he built up the kinetic energy to impale her in mid-air...

"No! Kid, no!" Atom-Smasher lowered his mask over his mouth and reached an arm out just as he began to enlarge. "Give it to me!"

Courtney glanced fearfully at Atom-Smasher, then at Black Adam, then at-

"Give me the amulet, Courtney!" Atom-Smasher hissed in burning desperation. "Nao!"

"Oh jesus—_Albert!_" Star Spangled Kid shrieked and helplessly tossed it at him-

"**Insolent spawn!"** Black Adam snarled. He turned from Courtney to Albert at the last millisecond. His eyes enlarged, his forearms swung, and-

_**THOOM****!**_

The Star Spangled Kid could have sworn Atom-Smasher had screamed something else out, but the sound was drowned out by the sonic boom mere yards from her when Black Adam accelerated into him at Mach Five in a single blink.

A second blink, and Courtney saw—from her upside down position in mid-air—an office building exploding from the metahumans' dual impact.

At third blink; Courtney landed hard in the middle of the street. Her body was protected by the Cosmic Converter belt as the pavement dented from her impact.

Fourth, she weakly pulled herself up by the Cosmic Rod and winced in pain. "A-Albert..."

_**KAPOW!**_

She gasped and spun to see-

-Black Adam flew from the still-collapsing site of the office building, trailing glass and flame. Atom-Smasher stomped out of the mess, fifty-feet tall, his fist vibrating from the impact.

"-ou cannot have it, Black Adam!" His booming giant voice echoed across Washington DC as normal sound waves returned to the warzone. "Go terrorize your own country!"

Without so much as a breath, the twirling body of Black Adam uprighted itself. Another sonic boom, and he soared away towards the distant horizon. Gone.

Atom-Smasher looked every which way, standing on giant legs, confused and panicked.

Courtney began to hover towards him. Breathlessly glancing left...Right...

_**SMASSSH!**_

Both distant teens spun to look.

Black Adam smashed through a parking garage—flying from the opposite cardinal direction—and he held an entire semi-truck trailer in his grasp. Snarling, he flew straight towards the young superhero and slammed the weight of the vehicle across Albert's enlarged face. _**KRACKKK!**_

"NNNNGH!" Atom-Smasher reeled from the blow, his stomping feet shaking the ruined streets beneath him.

Another godly scream; Black Adam flew high, and came down hard. He impaled the full length of the semi trailer through Atom-Smasher, from head to toe. _**CRUNNNNCH!**_

Where Albert had stood, a tower of crunched and splintering metal nao formed, collapsing—beneath Black Adam's punishing blow.

Courtney gasped-

_**CRACKKK!**_ A giant fist blew through the middle of the trailer—exiting out with a right hook across Black Adam's chin. **_WHAM!_** The Wizard's twisted disciple stumbled back in mid-air.

"RAAAUGH!" Atom-Smasher flexed his muscles, shrugging the shredded body of the trailer off him. He reached out—_**GRIP!—**_grabbed Black Adam by the leg, and repeatedly pummeled him left and right across the city streets of D.C. **_WHAM! POW! SM-SMACK!_** His other hand held something tiny, dangling, reflective.

_The amulet..._

"You want this piece of garbage, Adam, you're gonna have to do it through me!" And Albert body-slammed Black Adam's flailing body down into an intersection. _**POW!**_

Black Adam winced under Atom-Smasher's giant palm, then sneered: **"So be it, mortal."** He wrenched two hands free, formed a pair of fingers in each, and flung them like superhuman daggers into opposite sides of Atom-Smasher's wrist. _**SL-SLIINK!**_

"AAAUGH!" Atom Smasher lurched back-

_**FWOOOSH!**_ Black Adam flew straight up and moonsaulted backwards, bicycle-kicking Atom Smasher's chin skyward.

_**CRACK!**_ The giant hero stumbled, a glob of blood flying skyward-

"_**HAAAAA-AAAUGH!"**_ Black Adam brought two fists together and aimed them straight towards Atom-Smasher's masked skull, to split in twain-

_**ZAAAAAAP!**_ A stream of golden energy sailed down into the god, plowing him deep into the street, forming a thirty-foot long ravine in pure concrete. He groaned, snarled, and looked up.

The Star Spangled Kid hovered down, her cosmic rod glowing hard. A deep breath, and she gave her best growl: "God or not, hands off my boyfriend!"

"Nnnghht..." Atom-Smasher limped dizzily, shrinking down to a helpless human size. "C-Courtney..."

"Run with the amulet, Albert." She gulped, reinforced her courage. "I-I've got this..."

"I don't th-think either of us do, Kid."

"**As much as I disapprove of slaying children..."** Black Adam slowly levitated up. A curtain of lightning briefly danced up his muscular body and shimmered with finality in his eyes. **"...you two have forced my hand."** Waves of heat emanated from his fingers as superhuman friction clenched his iron fists together. **"Iris forgive me..."**

"_Forgive **this**, asshole!"_

Black Adam glanced aside-

_**WHANNNNG!**_ A bent lamppost bloodily slammed across his face. Black Adam reeled from the blow.

Atom-Smasher and the Star Spangled Kid gasped as Hawkman limped into view, a huge bleeding gash in his chest. He sneered from under his mask, his wings twitching.

"Wanna try that again with my mace, ya murderous punk?"

"**You know as well as I do that you can't wield your weapon of evil, Hawkman..."** Black Adam icily pivoted back to frown at the three. **"...You're too weak. You're already dead."**

"Yeah, speaking of dead, you've got a lot to answer for after today..." Hawkman achingly gestured towards the carnage of Washington DC around them. "Trust me when I tell you this: Karma's a real bitch."

"**I will not let you lecture me on justice, vigilante."** Black Adam turned to look at Atom Smasher. He stretched an arm out. **"Simply give me what is rightfully mine, and this needless holocaust will end."**

Atom-Smasher was mute.

"Not on your life, Adam." Hawkman bloodily spat.

Star Spangled Kid gulped. She glanced at Black Adam, at the amulet, at the warzone around them. "C-Carter..."

_**VRMMMM!**_ A green aura. Black Adam twitched—but before even a god could react. **_CLANK!_** A giant, translucent green wrench clamped over his head and pinned him like a moth to the ground. _**"NNNnkkkt!"**_

The three heroes looked up to see Green Lantern, his masked eyes glowing a hot emerald, his ring outstretched to secure the invader in place.

"That's as far as you go, Adam!" Green Lantern spat, his outfit and cape in tatters from hours of intense combat. "Don't make us send you back to Kahndaq in a coffin!"

"Green Lantern!" Courtney hovered over to Hawkman and helped support the hero's careening form. "Hawkman! He's hurt badly-"

"The Amulet!" Green Lantern shouted. "Do you have it?.!.?"

"I've got it!" Atom-Smasher yelled back. "Where the Hell is Jay already?"

"Salvaging victims from the Lincoln Memorial battle!" Green Lantern then leered down at the prone form of Black Adam. "You're going to answer for everyone you've murdered today!"

"**I am not the real murderer here!"** Black Adam roared deep from the center of his being, stretched his mighty arms up, and brought them down like dual meteors into the asphalt beneath him.

_**P-POWWWW!**_

A cloud of ash and debris fountained up to envelop both Black Adam and Green Lantern. The other three JSA'ers flinched from the explosion. Before they could intervene-

"**HRAAAUGH!"** Black Adam flew out of the tumult, uppercutting Green Lantern violently. _**WHAMMM!**_

Green Lantern flew back in a dissipating bubble of green energy. He spun his elderly self upright and formed an emerald buckler in time to block Black Adam's second punch. _**CLANG!**_ Snarling, he converted the shield into a huge hammer and knocked the god back. _**SMACK!**_ With the distance between them, he formed a green bow-and-arrow and aimed it square at the invader's chest. "Last chance, Adam!"

"**No."** He frowned and stretched both palms out. **"Yours."** He slapped his hands together.

_**THOOOOOM!**_ A huge concussion of air billowed outward, pummeling all of Green Lantern's senses.

"Aaaugh!" Green Lantern faltered and 'shot' the arrow off target. _Thwiiiift-_

_-__**Snatch!**_Black Adam grabbed the green arrow in midair. Before Green Lantern could dissipate the energy, Adam bolted over behind the hero's back and put him in a headlock. **"Behold, the fury of your own evil weapons."** _**SLUNKKK!**_ Adam stabbed the energy arrow deep into his left eye.

"AAAAAAUGH!" Green Lantern screamed.

"Lantern!" Courtney shrieked. Trembling, she aimed up and fired the cosmic rod.

_Swooosh—_CLACK! Black Adam effortlessly flung a free arm and back-handed the gold blast away—Just before Atom-Smasher's enlarged body pounced on him in mid-air.

"Hold on, Alan!" Albert hissed as he fought to wrench Adam's body off of Green Lantern. The three metahumans wrestled and struggled in mid-air.

"Dammit, boy-!" Hawkman clutched his chest and sneered up at the amulet in Atom-Smasher's grip. "At least drop the-"

"Take him out already!" Green Lantern hissed, clutching his bleeding eye-socket. Everything was going South. When wasn't it? "For the love of-"

"**ISIS!"** Black Adam suddenly screamed. "**GIVE**. **ME**. **STRENGTH**!"

A bolt—like lightning—and the three soared skyward as Black Adam shot them with a burst of magic and fury.

Hawkman's breath left him.

Courtney hovered helplessly with the Cosmic Rod, squinting for everything—and nothing—from cloud to cloud. "Where did they-?"

About a mile away...Straight from the heavens...

_**Swooooooooooosh—**_The conjoined shadow of the three combatants soared earthward like a comet and landed in the dead center of the Smithsonian.

It wasn't the Smithsonian for much longer.

_**KA-POWWWWWWW!**_

The ground shook, the streets rumbled. Hawkman's legs gave out from underneath him and the Star Spangled Kid had to practically hug the cosmic rod to prevent herself from being thrown back several hundred yards from the ensuing air blast. When the waves of thunder subsided, she looked up, pushing aside several tossed blonde bangs.

The Smithsonian had been shattered in half. A pillar of smoke rose from ground zero, and there were several more, tinier explosions going off. The fight still hadn't ended.

"God in heaven..." Hawkman wheezed, clutching his chest, coughing up more blood. "It ain't worth all of this. Dammit, Alan, Mr. Terrific, we had a _**plan**_!"

Courtney touched down beside Hawkman. "We're going to tear the City apart at this rate...the WHOLE City..."

"What do you mean _**we**_?" Hawkman hissed, though the defeat in his voice betrayed his denial.

"Carter..." The Star Spangled Kid gulped. "Did you lose your communicator in the battle?"

"Among a good chunck of brain cells, yeah."

"Take mine..." She handed it to him. "I've already hit the emergency signal. Dr. Midnite will get to you and Pat in no time."

"Courtney—I know what you're thinking!" Hawkman hissed. "But stay with me, will ya? This is outta your league. It was never really your battle to begin with. This is a job for friggin' Superman...Captain Marvel...the Spectre—Hell, I dun care..."

"Well, I **do**." She stood up, the cosmic rod glowing in her grasp. "It became my 'league' over an hour ago..." She glanced at the rubble of a certain hotel a few blocks away. "...catch you later."

"Dammit, Kid, _wait!"_

For the first time since she joined the JSA, she didn't obey a superior—and yet she did. There was a mission to complete. A greater picture to examine, to deal with, to fix. As long as she kept that goal in mind, the rest was simple—_right?_

She soared through the heavens, over the craters and ash, the evacuated streets—the streets that were too unlucky to be evacuated in time. She briefly glanced down at them, searching desperately for the black and white hues she was taught to expect in the superheroic effort, but only saw the grey fumes of war.

Her head tilted up, masked eyes tearing against the beating winds. She saw the flashes, the billowing air currents, the turbulent chaos of battle—from deep within the hollowed out crater of the former museum. The closer she got in her descent, the grittier the details—and the more heart wrenching. Green Lantern lay down in a crumpled corner, blood pouring out of the left side of his face. And Atom-Smasher...

..._Albert_ reeled from a thunderous punch from Black Adam. As he slumped towards the ground, his left arm fell free—a hand holding a vulnerable amulet, an amulet which Black Adam was nao reaching for-

"HEY!" Courtney screamed as she dive-bombed.

Black Adam looked up-

"See stars yet?" She reared the Cosmic Rod, spun, and came down with a three-sixty golden hammer.

**WHANNNNNNG**! Black Adam flew forty feet from the blow.

Star Spangled hovered above Atom-Smasher. She ducked to grab the amulet-

"_**HAAAAUGH!"**_ Black Adam was already sailing back at her.

She shrieked. She snatched the amulet, planted the cosmic rod against the ground, and vaulted up in a flip-

_**SWOOOOSH!**_ Black Adam flew past her.

-Courtney ended her flip in a hover, spun, snarled through her braced teeth, and aimed the end of the rod at him. _**ZAAAAAP!**_

Black Adam levitated around, stretched a hand out, and effortlessly collected the entire golden discharge in his palm. Muscles tensing, he scowled and flung his fist forward, flinging the platinum energy back at her in a fireball. _**PHWOOOMB!**_

She held her breath, twirled horizontally, dodged the fireball, and came to a stop-

_**FWOOOOSH!**_ Black Adam charged at her.

The Star Spangled Kid gasped and held the length of the rod before her, charging up a shield at the last second—_**VRMMMMMM!**_

_**POWWWWW!**_ Black Adam shoved the shield'd girl across the space of the wrecked museum. They plowed through an exhibit wall—**POW!**-another-**POWWW!**-and several more in succession—**POW!-POW!-POW!** Until finally they ended in a large chamber.

"NNNGH!" Sweating, spitting, Courtney shoved the end of the cosmic rod forward, hooked it around Black Adam's neck, and twirled around until she kick-vaulted off his shoulders. _TH-THAP!_

He flung an arm out, blindly, failing to catch her.

Courtney flew over his hand, planted her feet against a wall, charged her cosmic converted belt, kicked off, and flew at him, swinging the cosmic rod mercilessly back and forth. "HAAAUGH!" SW-SW-SWOOSH!

The golden weapon violently contacted Black Adam's face, knocking his cranium left and right. _**CONG! WH-WHANG! SMACKKK!**_ Upon the last swing, he gripped the end of her rod, overpowered her, and flung her straight into the floor.

_**SLAM!**_ Bits of tile flew up in a cloud. Courtney squirmed, winced through tearing eyes, and gasped-

Black Adam was slamming both fists down-

She blocked with the glowing gold tip of her rod. _**VRMMM-POWWWW!**_ Her ears bled from the resulting sonic boom emanating between them. The air rang in a shrill horror as she then yanked the rod back and slammed them against the insides of Black Adam's ankles.

_**SMACK-SMACK!**_

His legs bowed...

Her face contorted into a bloody frown. _**THUNKKKK!**_ She slammed it straight up into his pelvis.

Black Adam ragdoll'd ten feet up into the air...

Courtney leapfrogged up to her feet, spun the body of the cosmic rod gymnastically over her neck, spun one hundred eighty degrees, and swung the whole length of it like a bat into the god's airborn body. "**RAAAGH!"**

_**WHANGGGG!**_ Black Adam pinballed through the nearest wall and into the Smithsonian's empty guest center. **_SMASSSSH!_**

Courtney slumped against the rod, leaning precariously, panting...panting...panting...

A gulp.

She turned.

She began to limp back towards where Atom-Smasher had been-

_**CRKKKK!**_

"...?" She turned and looked over her shoulder. She gasped-

_**SWOOOOOSH!**_ An entire soda machine flew towards her.

She uppercutted at the last second with the cosmic rod. _**SLIIIIIICE!**_ The vending machine spread into metal ribbons like butter before her. In slow motion, every soda can inside the thing exploded into an obscuring mist of startling confusion. Courtney squinted to see through it, but half-a-second in, as the mist first began to oozily dissipate—she was greeted with Black Adam's incoming headbutt.

_**WHUDDDD!**_

The Star Spangled Kid flew back through the same four walls they had previously smashed through: _**P-P-P-POW!**_ But this time in the span of a single second. She rolled over ten feet and came to a wincing, blood-sputtering stop. Through the wracking pain, and the shorting-out of her cosmic converter belt, she realized she had dropped two things: the rod...and the amulet.

A whimpering breath, and she reached her hand out-

-for the amulet.

_**THUD!**_

"AAAUGH!" She screamed, for Black Adam's boot had stomped over her wrist.

"..." He scowled down at her, barely a scratch on him. **"You are quick, young girl."**

_**SWOOOSH!**_ She was thrown up against a wall. **_WHAM!_** She fell to her knees, wincing so hard she could barely see straight-

"**But I do not dance with heretics."** Black Adam, nao wearing the amulet around his neck, kicked the cosmic rod up into his grasp, turned it upside down, and levitated until he was just over-

_**SWOOOOOSH-THUNKKKK!**_

"AAAAA-HAAAA_**AAAAAUGH!"**_ Courtney wailed, her left ankle impaled by the tip of her own golden weapon. She began to plunge forward, hiccuping and clutching the ragged remnants of her limb in agony-

***GRIP***!

Courtney's eyes bulged. She gasped for air.

Black Adam only frowned and raised her higher in the air by the neck, her one and a half legs twitching and dangling in the shimmering firelight of the burned-out museum around them, her left foot bleeding, ragged, on the brink of falling off completely.

"**Go on...Beg for mercy. Your only god is listening."** Black Adam frowned. In spite of the carnage around him, his slick black hair and golden lightning emblem were untouched. He was a one-man army all along. Surely she—_they_ had to have known this... **"The so-called 'heroes' of your nation constantly pummel my country with incendiary weapons of 'peace', and every year—every **_**month**_** they make orphans of my people. Nao tell me...Why should I spare **_**your**_** virgin blood, today?"**

She rolled her eyes back, tearing, barely summoning the lisp of breath to sputter forth: "You...c-cannot...h-have the amulet."

"**It belonged to my Beloved Isis long before it ever fell into the hands of the robbers you intend to protect."** Black Adam frowned at her. **"That treasure means more in its preservation of her memory than ever its incidental wealth of black magic."**

"Is th-that why...y-you killed over a h-hundred people t-today?" Stargirl choke-sobbed in his grasp. "To p-preserve memories?"

"**Memories are just vessels of pain."** The man said. He raised his other hand and aimed two fingers straight at the front of her skull. **"Fortunately for you, child, you will not have to deal with them for long..."**

Courtney fluttered her eyes closed, a deep childish breath murmuring a few memorized words-

_**FWOOOOSH!**_ *THWPP!* Atom Smasher appeared in a blink, grabbing Black Adam's shoulders from behind.

"**What-?"** Black Adam glared over his shoulder.

_**S**__-S-__**S**__-S-__**S**__-S-__**S**__WIIIII__**SH**__!_ A red streak blinked in and out, and suddenly the Star Spangled Kid was completely removed from the god's grasp. She reappeared twenty meters away in another blink, draped limply in the arms of the Flash.

"I got her, Al!" Jay shouted, his body covered in dust from head to tow, his limbs still phasing in and out of reality from the cross-city dash. "Nao let him have it!"

"You're gonna rue the day you touched her, Adam." Atom Smasher grew twice his original size and mightily kneed the villain in the back.

Black Adam tumbled forward, but effortlessly ended in a twirling hover. He levitated icily towards Atom Smasher and held a golden amulet in his grasp

.

A few yards away, Green Lantern struggled to his knees, glaring with one good eye. "The pendant...the Mission...It's already over..." He tried in futility to summon his ring's energy-

"Good heavens—" Flash suddenly eyed the heirloom victoriously hanging from the Kahndaqi's neck. He dropped the Star Spangled Kid to the floor and, in a half-blink—_"Al! Get back—"_

Black Adam just as quickly flung his fist out—_**WHUDDD—**_superhumanly contacting with the face of the half-blurred Flash. The old hero's pith helmet flew into the air from the impact. _Grip!_ Black Adam grabbed the metal disc and flung it faster than a speeding bullet into Atom Smasher's skull. _CLANG!_

"AUGH!" Bleeding between the eyes, Atom Smasher stumbled back, clutched his skull, and shrunk a few feet—

_Th-Thwp!_ Black Adam had flown behind him and wrapped the amulet tightly around the hero's neck.

"Snkkkt—Nnngh!" Atom Smasher writhed and struggled for breath.

"**You wanted to share my pain...?"** Black Adam sneered into his ear and pulled the amulet's chain tighter. **"Then embrace it, ****unbridled****."** He then raised Atom Smasher's body directly above him and towards the shattered hole in the museum's ceiling.

"**S ****H ****A ****Z ****A ****M**!"

The Star Spangled Kid looked up, weakly. Her blue eyes lit up in the ensuing blue nightmare, descending. "**Albert**!" She stretched a hand out**-**

A magical lightning bolt tore down through the roof of the Smithsonian and connected with Atom Smasher's body above Black Adam. The magical energy channeled into the amulet, making it glow in a frightening pulse, followed by an explosion of chaos.

_**PHWOOOOOMB!**_ Atom Smasher's body caught aflame. The last reserves of oxygen in his lungs came out in a blood curdling death scream.

Courtney's wail of horror joined the chorus...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(One and a Half Years Ago)**

"I just can't believe it..." Courtney sat on the edge of the Meeting Hall's steps, her fifteen-year-old legs playfully scooting left and right across the marble steps that led down to the round table where most of the older superheroes were gathered, discussing the team's business. "...the actual Justice Society! To actually think I'm part of the same group of heroes who once fought back Hitler's own espionage forces in America! I-I mean, our country owes its history to these people. I spent years reading up on them..."

"A bit of advice," a slightly older teenager took off his blue cowl and smiled. A handsome, kind face. "Cut the hero-worship while you're ahead. Most of these people are just old farts, when you get to know them. Jay may like to give autographs, but Alan—_yeesh_—I swear the only person he smiles to is his daughter, Jade."

Courtney giggled, momentarily raising a hand to embarrassingly cover her fresh new braces Soon, though, she hugged her knees to her chest and produced a happy sigh, clad in her blue shorts and top, bespeckled with white stars. "_'Distance is a great promoter of admiration'_."

He smirked curiously. "Is that a quote?"

She nodded. "Diderot. If the men here need their space, then I'll be happy to oblige." A sigh. "Though, I doubt Pat will let me keep any distance. I've already been on a mission or two with him, Jay, and Richard. I swear—they never let me get so much as _ten feet_ away from their watchful gaze while in the middle of a villainous scuffle."

"It was like that for a long time for me when I joined," he scratched the back of his neck and glanced over at Wildcat talking to Mister Terrific. "But they let me pick up my own speed, so long as I didn't make it look like I had sharper wits than the rest of them in a pinch."

"Oh, and, naturally, how _could_ you and your young brains be any step ahead of these veteran heroes!" She rolled her eyes.

"Heaven forbid, r-right? Hah hah hah."

"Hehehehe..."

"Ahem..." He extended a hand. "The name's Atom Smasher." She shook it. "But you can call me Albert."

"Uh...H-Hi, Albert." She rested her head on her knees and exhaled. "….You can call me very lucky…"

He only chuckled at that. And for a while, he wasn't looking.

It was the perfect time for her to ever so briefly stop holding back...and _blush_.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Three Years Ago)**

"Damn you, Star Spangled Kid!" Shiv shrieked and leapt down from the rooftop of Blue Valley High. A dozen darkly-clad ninjas dove with her as the young vixen unsheathed a gloved array of claws. "I'm going to slice that smile from your smug face!" _SHIIIING!_

"Nnngh!" The Star Spangled Kid backflipped, dodged Shiv's serrated swing, and positioned herself on the hood of a car. "Nice can opener you got built into your wrists, tubby. You use it to open a can of spam every morning?"

"What—I...It...Y-You..." Shiv stumbled, examined her spandex'd waist, then shook with anger. "Rrrrgh—I am _SO_ not fat! RAAAUGH!" She dove at the young hero with a flying kick.

The Star Spangled Kid absorbed the blow with the aid of her cosmic converter belt. _Th-THUD! _"Nnngh!" She gritted her teeth, charged a wave of cosmic energy through her uniform, and kicked a nearby street sign up out of the ground and into her grip. "Hey bimbo! School Zone!" _**WHANGG!**_

"Unnngh!" Shiv hobbled back, clutching her bruised nose. She pointed a commanding finger forward. _"Gid Her, youh idiogs!"_

The ninjas rushed forward in a blurred cloud.

Courtney gasped under her mask, spun three-hundred-sixty degrees, and clobbered five ninjas in a row with one swing of the street sign. _**TH-TH-THWAP!**_ The rest dove violently at her, daggers glistening in the Nebraskan sunlight. The Star Spangled Kid dodged, ducked, twirled, and uppercutted one unlucky thug before flinging his body ten feet away into a pond beneath the school flagpole. _SPLOOSH!_

Next, the Star Spangled Kid shrieked as she was tackled by three ninjas at once. A fourth ran up, leapt, and came down at her with a gleamingly sharp katana—

"Awwwwwwwwwwwww shit." The young teenager hissed.

_**SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOM-**__**THUD!**_

Out of nowhere, an eleven foot tall titanium robot in white and red stripes landed, forming a crater. He grabbed the sword-leaping thug and used him like a club to bat the three ninjas off of the Star Spangled Kid. _TH-TH-TH-THAP!_

She stood up, brushing herself off. "Aww...Damn it, Stripsey! I had them!"

"_**Watch your language, young lady."**_ Pat Dugan's disguised voice emanated electronically from inside the creaking automaton. _**"And don't call me 'Stripesy'."**_

"Oh great." Shiv paced up with a bleeding nose and readied her claws, ninjas flanking her across the school lawn. "...the little brat's bodyguard has arrived."

"He's not my bodyguard!" Courtney stuck her tongue out. She glanced up at her 'robot' companion. _"If you don't mind, __**Pat**__..."_ she hushedly grumbled so that only he could hear. _"...but it looks like I suddenly got myself a nemesis here, so shouldn't I—you know—send her home packing all on my lonesome and stuff?"_

"**Not tonight you won't." **'Stripesy' pointed a commanding metal finger. **"Go home. Your mother's worried about you. I can handle this."**

The Star Spangled Kid smiled. "If you say so..." Using the energy field from the cosmic converter belt, she lifted Stripesy by his metal legs and flung his hulking weight straight into the line of thugs. "...they're _all yours!"_

"**Wait—NO!"**

"Awwwww crud—" Shiv recoiled-**THUDDDD!** The robot smashed into them, grinding the pile of aching thugs a solid twenty feet through the grass.

"Hehehehehe!" Courtney about bent over, slapping her knee.

"**For all that's good and holy!"** Stripsey stumbled to his whirring feet. **"When will you grow up, already!"**

"Stop trying to be my dad and let's just kick butt!" Courtney got into a running position. "I've got Algebra homework to do."

The stepfather's voice groaned through the electronic contraption. **"Fine. Fine. Just don't get too close to the poison-tipped daggers."**

"Last one in's a rotten egg!" The Star Spangled Kid grinned wickedly and sprinted across the lawn. She flipped over Stripsey like he was a pommel horse and jump kicked into the recovering crowd of ninjas while Stripsey exchanged blows with Shiv's weapons...

WHANG! WHAP! CL-CLACK! SMASH!

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Three and Three Quarters Years Ago)**

"Is it too much to ask that you at least _smile _to him for a change?" Barbara Whitmore gripped the wheel with angry hands as she rolled into the Beverly Hills high school. California palm trees stretched up on either side of them. "He's only ever been nice to you. The decent thing is to return the sentiment-"

"Ugh...Mom..." Courtney rolled her eyes and rummaged through her backpack. "...the last thing I wanna do is smile at the man who's only nice to me because he wants to get into your pants."

The woman gasped so hard she made the car momentarily swerve. "Courtney Whitmore-!"

"Don't try and deny it!" The teenager tossed her short blonde bangs and muttered: "He's just like any other lousy jerk who's walked into your life. He only wants one thing-"

"That's no excuse to talk to me like that—I'm your mother, young lady-"

"Then be a mother for a change and give the guy the bird. He's bad news. They're all bad news."

"You don't know the half of it, Courtney. This is different—Pat _is _different. We haven't gone into this thing harebrained. He's a decent, god-fearing, respectful man. But I can't expect you to know that—You never so much as leave your room when he visits—"

"Pffft-hahahaha!" Courtney laughed so hard, her eyes squeezed out tears.

"And what's so funny?"

"That whole 'god-fearing', church-going, Bible-thumping routine of his!" She smirked wisely at her own mom. "It's a total crock of shit and you're really, really desperate if you're giving into his jerkoff charms just because of _**that**_."

"Courtney Whitmore, you will stop saying such ugly things this second-"

"Why the Hell should I? It's true!" Courtney was already gripping the door handle as they rolled up to the bustling school entrance. "The guy's a total flake! Maybe dad was a total loser, but he wasn't so lame as to hide behind such a fake getup-"

"Your **father** was a cruel, dishonest, coward of a man who treated this family like crap. And you think _**you**_ know him, Courtney? If you had any idea hao all these years I had to be the guardian shield to keep a monster like that from taking out his anger and vices on you-"

"Pfft. Mom, I watch Lifetime. I kinda sorta think I can _imagine_ what you've been through. Kinda pathetic that it's reduced you to a drooling princess for someone as lame as Pat-"

"Young Lady-"

"Heh... ...Have a good **day**, _Mom_..." Courtney opened the door and marched out. "And nice try with attempting to make mine miserable with your self-righteous baggage-"

"You come back here this instant, Young Lady-! I swear to God-" She all but shrieked out the window.

"I won't be home until later..." The teenager tossed her shoulders towards the car and marched up the cold concrete steps, smirking. "... ..Not that you'll notice, or care..."

"Courtney-!"

"Heheheh-"

"Courtney, you—_Oh damnitalltoblazes-"_ And the car lurched into drive and tore off into the California haze...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Eight Years Ago)**

A seven-year-old Courtney Whitmore sat in a pink nightgown, scrunched up atop the living room sofa of her apartment house. She was glued to the television where a brightly colored episode of "Captain Carrot and the Zoo Crew" played gleefully before her.

The truth was, she was only _pretending_ to be watching it.

In the kitchen, barely ten feet away...

"_You're always doing this! You're always throwing our money away!—No, __**MY**__ money, Sam! For I've yet to see you earn a damn cent from all the stuff you squander away like yesterday's trash!"_

"_Your money? YOUR money? Woman, don't get me started—"_

"_Started? Oh, by all means, Sam! Why don't you start! You haven't started a dayum thing! What's this glorious 'business' you keep dreaming up that will someday support our family—Our daughter through school, our retirement!"_

"_Is that all you think about?"_

"_Of course it is! I think about things, Sam! Important things! It's what being a family is all about! It's what LIFE...**REAL** LIFE is all about! Not all of these stupid schemes you keep getting yourself involved in—"_

"_What would you know about it? I'm trying to make a break here—"_

"_No..."_

"_And all you can do is make me feel stupid—"_

"_No-No-No-NO! ENOUGH—"_

"_Will you just—"_

"_ENOUGH! __**ENOUGH**__, Sam! ENOUGH—__**Okay?**__ For once in your goddamn, worthless life—Be a man and do SOMETHING. Don't half-do something, or pretend like you really care for our future when you don't! I've been carrying this whole household on my shoulder for six stinkin' years—"_

"_Ohhhhhh bullshit—"_

"_For SIX...STINKING...MISERABLE YEARS and I'm TYRED of it! You go out there for fourteen hours a day and try being a waitress and nurse in a world full of ugly, hurtful people who just scoff and laugh at you and see if you're strong enough to have lasted as long as I have! I'm giving you one last chance to make a choice, Jack. Do something, or do nothing. Cuz I've had it. I have HAD IT."_

"_God in stinkin' heaven, why the hell do I come home to this shit—"_

"_Oh there you go, whine-whine about how pathetic your life is—Well you MAKE it THAT WAY, Sam! But not anymore—You won't hold down Courtney and I anymore—"_

"_As if you ever held something worth melting in your hand, ya selfish pig—"_

"_GET OUT—"_

"_Oh, bravo! Bravo to you—"_

_**SHATTER!**__ "GET THE HELL OUT OF OUR HOUSE, YOU MISERABLE LITTLE COWARD!"_

"_Fine_—FINE!" Courtney's father, unshaven and smelling of whiskey, stumbled out into the living room, half-dragging a splotched coat behind him. "You give me so much crap and yet you're so blind, ya stupid bitch. I could have made you a queen if you just had the stinkin' patience to LET ME! You should have looked at the _BIG PICTURE_, Barbara! The _Big Picture!_ Yanno, the Grand Scheme of things! But you're too stupid and selfish to look beyond your own nose, you dumb piece of shit—You can have this heap of garbage, for what it's worth!" He shrugged his coat on, straightened an invisible tie, and took two drunken steps before freezing with a dead, decayed gaze at Courtney.

"..." Courtney quietly stared back.

He muttered: "Like you were worth it either, you thankless little princess shit."

"_GET. **OUT**."_

He cast a poisonous glance towards the kitchen, rolled his eyes, and—loudly grabbing his truck keys off a table—thundered out the apartment.

Courtney waited until the sound of his truck engine roared and dwindled away outside. Less than a minute later, the television switched to commercial, and she could hear her mother's quiet sobs from the kitchen.

From a distance, she hid her face into her knees...and gently joined her...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Eleven Years Ago)**

Courtney hummed to herself, kicking her sneakers constantly—boredly—up and down from where they dangled off the edge of a church pew. The tiny church hall was hazy, smelled of rust, and constantly vibrated with the engine noise of Los Angeles looming outside. Somewhere in the distance, a Latino janitor muttered to a sphere of bilingual ghosts as he worked on cleaning a spot in the tile that wouldn't go away.

The four-year-old with pigtails blinked at the various stain glass effigies in the mostly empty place, hummed more to herself, rubbed her face, and sighed with boredom as she glanced to the side towards where a blonde woman slumped against the pew on her knees, shaking and hiccuping as if out of breath...

"_Please... ...Oh please, God.. ... ...speak to Sam.. ... ... ...reach out to him. I keep trying... ...I keep trying, God... ... ...But he won't listen. He needs Your Truth. Your conviction. Please—If not for my sake, then for this family's... .. ...For Courtney. I ask you, Lord, in your Son Jesus' name... ...Please... ...Save this family... ..."_

Courtney blinked. She squinted briefly.

Her mother's folded arms trembled and quivered. There were splotches of black and blue on the skin, just as her wrists slid out from hiding beneath a long sleeved jacket.

"_Please, God.. ... ...reach out to Sam... ...touch him, Lord. Touch his heart..."_

Courtney sing-song'd the whole scene out of her mind, glanced around, and stared at more stain glass windows, rolling her eyes until the various faces and images formed a blur, like she was staring out the car window on the highway...

Or perhaps dreaming...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 23, 2005...Today)**

Nearly through Bach's Sixth Suite, Stargirl's eyes fell once more onto the crowd, and she winced to think about hao long she had legitimately been distracted. But that realization wasn't half as numbing as the fact that nothing of importance had transpired to have necessitated her vigilance.

Barely a month in the City, and she felt like a flying doorstop. If working in mysterious ways was an art, then that made God look like Prince.

She sighed boredly and was about to page Starfire once again when the very same communicator vibrated loudly in her hand, summoning a startled yelp form her being.

But then, very hotly then: _"Snkkt—Cyborg! Robin here! We've got trouble!"_

"_Cyborg here. What gives-?"_

"_We have an attacker! Somewhere in the building!"_

Courtney's eyes went wide. "Oh my god." Her lips quivered and she murmured.

"_X'hal!"_

"_Dude, hao in the wide world of sports do you know that-?"_

"_No time! Cyborg, you've got the eye! Scan all around you on multiple wavelengths!"_

Stargirl panted. She craned her neck every which way—her blue eyes pouring over every inch of the rafters, the sidestage, the aisles, the seats upon seats upon seats upon seats that liquidly filled the shadowed volume of the Vaughan Concert Hall. Every rogue shape and flutter of refracted light turned into a potential killer, a strobing explosion, a ninja assassin with a dozen possible blades—glinting—as Courtney was flinching, palpatating and helpless—to find the source that Robin evidently could without so much as a second thought.

"_I swear to God-"_ Cyborg's voice electronically growled. _"-if someone's trying to take out Maddie-"_

"_Snkkt—It isn't Madeline! It's-"_

Courtney could nakedly hear Raven's voice from right below her: "Front in center!"

Stargirl spun, gripping the cosmic rod. She gasped. Already halfway through its burning descent, a hot flash of fiery energy was sailing straight into the crowd...

And towards Kensuke Kobayashi's hapless chest.

"Ogod-!" She dove down on the cosmic rod.

"_Dammit—NO!"_ Cyborg's lumbering form was leaping from the stage-

And Kobayashi-


	12. Suites part 3

_(Several Weeks Ago...)_

"_Y-You don't understand... ...The battle is already lost... ..." The reptilian man wheezed, blood oozing out of his jaws and over his red skin. "They have the Dark One's technology—Who knows what they'll do with it?"_

"_I know you've been through some trauma, buddy!" Beast Boy shouted above the noise of the Amazonian jungle whipping past their heads. "But could you be a little less cryptic while you and I careen mindlessly to our burning death?"_

"_Surely you have the means to control this thing!" The alien clamored to keep his hold on the speeding lumber mill on wheels, screaming its bladed way down the railroad tracks as it zoomed by hundreds of gasping workmen on either side of the forested trail. "Are all Terrans as uneducated in machina as you?"_

"_Listen, Kermit-"_

"_Razzar."_

"_I prefer iTunes myself. Listen—There's this limey metal freakjob chasing us with a score to settle! Nao I want some answers or am I gonna have to shed your skin months before summertime?"_

"_Look at the way you flinch, earthling! You couldn't threaten a dust mite!"_

"_... .. ..I have you know I went to church with dust mites-"_

_**KAPOW!**_

"_ACKIES!" Beast Boy flinched against his extraterrestrial companion and gazed down at the speeding lengths of the jungle canopy around them. A caravan of earth-kicking vehicles barreled straight after them on the tracks, and in the center was a howling tin man, his arm outstretched with a hot laser pointed their way. "Dammit—why can't he make like a good Buzz Lightyear and act himself into a canceled sitcom?"_

"_Your jocularity only serves to heighten the irony of your own death."_

"_Are all red skinned alien crocodiles born with a thesaurus up their-?"_

_**KAP-POW!**_

_Tree limbs and debris tumbled across the bladed traincar. "We are the quintessence of **doomed**!" Razaar shouted._

"_Like nuts we are! If there's anything I've learned about tight situations like this, they always call for-"_

_A series of green arrows swished out of the jungle, flitting across the blurred world and landing with magical discharges around the wheels of the tin man's caravan, forcing the vehicles to swerve mightily. **Ka-B-B-BOOM!** _

"_-short skirts and explosions." The green hero tilted his head up and smiled proudly. "Oh sweet...sweet Zoey..."_

_And out from the jungle wall, leaping from the meaty shoulders of a thundering panther, a figure descended onto the pursuing caravan—a billowing tunic, her feminine curves briefly silhouetted in the hot Brazillian sun, her skin briefly shining-_

_With a birthmark thereupon..._

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 23, 2005...Today)**

Beast Boy blinked.

He sat, perched birdlike, on the edge of a spiraling staircase, sighing lethargically as he overlooked what had to have been—by far—the most boring guardpost in the team's entire exercise: the Vaughan Concert Hall's front lobby. Every nao and then a random passerby would stroll through the foyer and towards the double-door, glancingly confusedly upwards at this green and decidedly-out-of-place elf in waiting.

"Move right along..." The changeling droned, waving a bored glove and stifling the latest of yawns. "Nothing to look at here, unless you like to see teenage boys in spandex squatting like incontinent nuns on the Vatican balconies."

The doors opened and closed swiftly, briefly washing the room with—and swiftly drowning out—Madeline Kobayashi's cello strings from stageside, as she oozed through the latest of Bach's antiquated movements, this time in C major.

The Third Suite.

"Frickin' waste of time, I swear to Bono." Beast Boy mumbled and fished through his pockets for something hidden. "The day I find out that Cyborg has a love child of Lucy Liu and Stevie Wonder for a girlfriend, and I'm stuck pulling guard duty at PBS City." He pulled out a folded up sheet of paper, marked all over with his own scribblings. He swiftly unraveled the parchment. "Grff... ...And who's the genius from Napoleonic times who invented concert halls and said that they couldn't serve popcorn or friggin' Reeses' Pieces at events like this?"

As he unfolded the paper, several personally sketched symbols appeared to the light—mimicking the many different birthmarks he had discovered on his person after a full night of self-scrutiny. Each symbol was matched up symmetrically with the name of an animal (_'Crocodile', 'Squirrel', 'Cat', 'Pelican'), _suggesting the form that the green shape-shifter had possessed at the time of wearing the respective body blemish.

"Ah yes... ...This wonderful thing." He smiled tyredly to himself, murmuring to likewise. "And the meaning of this is... ...is... ..." He frowned. His underbiting tooth shimmered angrily in the foyer's cold electric light. _Schiiing!_ "... ... ...absolute **horse hockey**." The changeling blinked. "Did I just Sherman Potter'd?"

A sigh and he turned the thing around in his grasp, his green eyes darting down the symbols, symbols, symbols as he grumbled the limping minutes of the mission away.

"Could have been nice if you had given me a frickin' decoder ring, Razzar... ..." Garfield sighed. "Or were you too busy gawking at Zoey during the time to think about it? Heh heh...Cuz I sure was." He smirked.

"_Snkkkt—Beast Boy. Come in. This is Raven."_

Garfield's smirk instantly fell off his chin like a prom night zit. He sighed, reached into his back pocket, and flipped open the honeycomb-shaped communicator with a Star Trek sound. "Copy, Raven. This is Green Mouseketeer. What's the update on Golden Goofy?"

"_Do you ever shut up?"_

"Do you sever shut down?"

"_I'm asking for an update from the front of the lobby."_

"You? Asking for an update?"

"_Okay, not **me**_. _Cyborg's making me ask."_

"Why's he asking you to ask me when he could just ask himself to ask me?"

"_I think he's too busy overlooking the murders I'm about to commit the next moment you waste my precious time."_

"Hooboy! Ahem...Coast is clear, Miss Raven. Nothing to see here but us sexy-eared elflings, Miss Raven."

"_Nnngh... ...I copy-"_

"Nothing to worry about save for the dropping of slacked jaws at the finely toned muscles and rugged good looks of us sexy-eared elfings, Miss Raven-"

"_One of these days, Garfield, you're going to collapse from the weight of your head being so full of sh-"_

Suddenly Cyborg: _**"Will y'all please be so kind as to stop spamming the airwaves with your hormonal bickering?"**_

Beast Boy blink, cockeyed: "Hormonal?"

Raven: _"Snkkt—Hormonal?"_

Starfire: _"Spamming?"_

Cyborg: _**"Silence! All of y'alL! Dayum! SNKKTkkkt-"**_ And that was the end of that.

"Harumph..." Beast Boy harumphed.

He blinked, smirked to himself, glanced left and right, and then reached into his other pocket. He produced a red pen—the author of the various scribblings on the paper sheet in his grasp. Whipping a glove off, he brought the red pen to his middle-most knuckle and drew a big bright crimson dot into the skin. He then formed a hand puppet with said limb—its fresh 'chakra stone' glistening in the foyer light.

"Hormonal?" The elf remarked. "The only thing hormonal here is what God did to your thighs."

The tiny, red-speckled hand puppet 'talked' back: '**Don't insult the shape of my hips! I'll have you know I've done plenty of squat-thrusts in front of bookcases and bench-pressed many a teacup to get this figure!'**

Garfield planted his opposite hand into his hip as he Leonardo Dicaprio'd towards the ostentatious puppet. "You couldn't bench-press a mosquito if it landed on your chin!"

The effigy hissed back: **'That is impossible! For my anorexic sarcophagus of a body doesn't even pump the blood necessary to attract a mosquito, or a boyfriend for that matter!'**

"Why Raven! I didn't know you thought about boys!"

**'Sure I do! They fly around at night and kidnap Brad Pitt in badly lit cemeteries!'**

"Silly Raven. Those aren't boys—Those are vampires!"

**'They're one in the same. Because I'm a self-righteous Vulcan eyebrow'd princess, and anything or anyone that isn't like me essentially SUCKS. Therefore all boys and fluffy woodland creatures are vampires!'**

"Why don't you go outside, find Anne Rice's leg, and duct tape her to your groin so you can hump her all day!"

**'That would have to assume that I care to see sunlight, my mortal enemy! I mean it; the soonest I step out and even _see_ a rainbow, ten legions of smiling Levar Burtons will trample me to death and feed me to the dogs like Jezebel at the city gates!'**

"Girl, I bet you'd _enjoy_ being trampled to death in front of a Hot Topic!"

**'Hell yeah! To smile is lame! To wince and shudder in pain is to make love to one's own divine strawbery angst, you dense illiterate motha-'**

"_SNKKT—Stop it already."_

Garfield blinked. His eyes darted towards the communicator in his lap. "Erm...stop what, Raven?"

"_Making fun of me." BLIP_

"DAH! Don't—Jeez_-DON'T DO THAT!_" Garfield hissed at the communicator, his shoulders slumping in a sigh. "... ... ...Wutever. I was getting bored of Mister Chakra-O anyways." He slipped his glove back on, leaned forward with an exasperated groan and stared at the sheet of paper in his grasp.

Symbols and symbols...

"Seriously...Hao did I get here?"

Symbols and symbols and symbols... ...

"Was this the fate you were rambling about, Zoey...?"

Symbols and symbols and symbols and symbols... ... ...

"... ...Ah Hell. I'm about to have a flashback, aren't I?"

Symbols and...

Cello music...

An inverted grin, green eyes blinking, entreating:

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(January 05, 2004)**

Garfield Logan paced restlessly across the dark confines of a twelfth story hotel room, his pointed ear taking in the lengths and widths of a frustrated voice squawking forth from the other end of his cell phone.

"_It's no use, Garfield. I've phoned the casting director twice this week. I've gone on conference call with the head writers. I even got into my Lamborghini, drove all the way across Hollywood Boulevard, waltzed onto the Paramount Studios, and personally spoke with Associate Producer Hannah Montague. It's surprising that I didn't get my ass thrown in jail for going that added length and barging in on them for you. It's no deal, Garfield. They're writing your character __**out**__ of Space Trek 2022. The show is one season away from cancellation anyway."_

"But Ron!" A nervous shadow of an elvin boy paced, paced, paced, and stammered into the phone. "Y-You're my agent! You've got to work this out for me! You promised me that you would get me a steady spot on television!"

"_And I did, Garfield. I didn't attend your victory party for nothing."_

"They only cast me for three episodes! I-I mean, what's the d-deal? I gave it the old college try! I was the first to show up and the last to leave for auditions! I-I mean—what's the problem?"

"_It's not you, kid. It's the world. Tough shit, Hollywood. If you pardon my language. Hao old are you again?"_

"Uhhhh..." A shadowy sweatdrop.

"_Anyways, I promised to leap fiery hoops for ya. But sometimes, when the wind picks up, you gotta wait for the brushfire to come and go. I know we'll get you a spot somewhere else in prime time—You just gotta be patient and __**trust**__ me."_

"Trust you? Dude—Over half my earnings have gone into this and—"

"_What? You're wanting to back out nao?"_

"Whoah-Whoah, wait! I-I didn't say..."

"_I thought we had a deal, kid."_

"W-We did, Ron! I-I-I mean we do! At least I hope we still do! Ron, what do you need me to do? I'm all the way here in Gotham City—" Grfield paused. He gazed out the hotel window for a second, then returned to his cell phone. "—Jump City, and I'm talking to all the people you've told me to and none of them are helping!"

"_What about Professor Devon?"_

"At the liberal arts school? Dude—Ron—_Man_, I made it clear from the beginning that I wanted to do _television!_ Not theatre!"

"_You may have to do local stuff to get by while I try and hitch you a better gig, kid."_

He frowned. "She says I'd be perfect as Laura Wingfield in _The Glass Menagerie_."

"_Yeah? So?"_

The petite shadow waved his arms about dramatically. "Professor Devon is an eighty-eight year old senior citizen with clinical blindness! She thinks I'm a dudette, dude! What am I supposed to do, put on a wig and crossdress while I do my lines?"

"_Why not? Tony Curtis did it."_

"I'm not—Snkkt—Dnngh—**DUDE**. Seriously, I'm desperate here. Not THAT desperate, but—come on, Ron! I'll die if I can't get a roll in television!"

"_I'm trying my best, everyday, Garfield. And if you don't want to give me credit for all the back bending I've done for you, well that's fine. Just don't expect me to attend your next party if you give me that attitude."_

"Nnnngh..." He rubs his temple, aching.

"_Do we have a __**problem**__?"_

"No, Ron..."

"_Alright, then. Just chill there in Jump City. Sip a mango or something—That place is in Florida, right?"_

"Uhhh...Maryland I think. No wait, Delaware. No.." He blinked. "Dude, where the heck am I...?"

"_Whatever. Just relax. I'll call you tomorrow, noon, on the spot. We'll get you through this, Garfield. Just trust me."_

"Yes, Ron."

"_And kid?"_

"What...?"

"_You seriously think you're dying without a chance to be on that godawful Space Trek 2022 show? You're far from starving, kiddo. I mean, you were a frickin' superhero for god's sake. Weren't you?"_

He hung his head.

"_I mean weren't you?"_

"I used to be...kind of." He gazed off to the side.

"_Well, we all have our glory days. Yours are yet to come. I can just see them!"_

"Uh huh..."

"_Catch you tomorrow. NOON—Garfield, I promise."_ (Click)

He slowly hung the phone down by his side. "If I was still a superhero, I'd afford better agents than you."

Silence.

A cool, night breeze drifted in through the windows and fluttered the blue curtains. Tyred, sulking, and sagging, Garfield marched out onto the balcony and slumped over the railing. "Phweeeeeeeee..." He exhaled long and hard. His eyes were thin. His pointed ears wilted. "...or if **they** just called me for once."

A minute passed. Two. He wasn't really staring at anything—not at the moonlight-glittering Bay beneath him, not at the Bayside plaza streaming with youths and night partiers, not at the Boardwalk where clusters of families and high schoolers enjoyed a Friday evening reverie, not even at the distant police lights or City patrol boats in the harbor.

After a blank stare into nothingness, the green skinned emo-thing glanced once more at his cell phone, flipped his finger across the pad, and brought forth a name.

'_Larry Trainor'_.

He flipped the pad to another name.

'_Cliff Steele'._

He flipped to another name.

'_Steve Dayton'—_

He grunted and quickly flipped once more.

'_Rita Far.'_

There, he lingered.

His green eyes curved inward. A sniffle escaped him, and his one finger hovered for a long time over the 'call' option on the cell phone's screen.

"...ngh."

He pocketed the infernal thing away and slumped once more against the railing, his head craned atop his folded arms.

"Who am I kidding? An _actor?_" A breath. "I don't even know what my motivation is supposed to be..."

_**SHOOOOOOOOOOM!**_

A bright, green light. Dozens, hundreds of voices far down below along the Bayside gasped and all faced one unified direction.

Garfield looked up. "Huh?" His eyes brightened to match the fiery, airborne plume that reflected against them. "DUDE!"

An emerald comet was hurtling over the hotel—barely a hundred feet above the rooftop—and landing somewhere downtown. _**KABOOOM!**_

The ground shook, sending vibrations rippling up into the hotel room itself. Garfield fell back from the balcony and landed on his butt. "Oof!" He blinked. He clamored back up to the railing and craned his neck, hearing with a bloodhound's ear morphing greenily out from his cranium.

Distant voices: _"Oh gawd, a UFO?" "No, a meteor!" "It just crashed!" "There's a fire in downtown!" "Aliens? Are we being attacked?" "Someone call the police—No, the Justice League!"_

"..." Garfield grinned. He looked back into his darkly lit hotel room and saw a deflated suit-and-mask unenthusiastically spilling out of his half-opened suitcase. "..." He grinned even more. "Yanno wut? Space Trek Sucks."

He ran in….scrambled...and ran back out, dressed from head-to-toe in black and purple. He slid the mask on over his head and pointed ears, took one bounding leap, and sent his petite body plunging out over the balcony.

_SWISSSSSH!_

In mid fall, he morphed into a green falcon and hung a sharp left—over the gasping heads of the cityfolk below—and bulleted his way towards the emerald fire in downtown...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Nine Months Ago)**

"Acting?" Steve Dayton, Mento, literally spun and gawked at the boy from across the castle foyer. "You're going to go into **acting**?"

Garfield sat firmly on a stool, his arms folded in an iron-clad pout. "It's all I've got to do nao." He grunted, not even looking up at his team leader. "I've taken acting lessons. I've gone to junior drama school. I might as well make use of whatever talents I have left."

The Doom Patrol leader rubbed his head beneath his helmet and stumbled over, groaning. "Have you finally lost it, Garfield?" Dayton frowned. "You're a fighter, not an actor."

"That's kind of hard to do when I'm not allowed to fight alongside the team." The green-skinned boy finally looked up, glaring daggers at the man. "It's a little impossible when I can't _use_ those 'fighter' talents you suddenly seem to believe in."

"Garfield, I never once lost belief in your talents as a superhero. I've only asked for you to work harder on your _priorities!_ You remember, right? Back when we assaulted the Brotherhood of Evil's Quantum Generator site—"

"Oh please-!" Garfield tossed his arms up and paced around the luxuriously splayed room in the center of Dr. Caulders' European manor. "Not the Quantum Generator Talk again! Dude—_Mento_—I had to do what I did!"

"No you didn't. You did what you wanted to do, and you did it in total opposition of my authority. And you know it." Mento pointed a firm finger. "I told you to destroy the Quantum Generator—Not save us from the Brain's plasma snare. Do you know how many lives you put into jeopardy? If Negative Man hadn't plowed his way into the Generator's Mainframe at the last second and stopped the miniature black hole from forming—"

"Larry would have done the same thing I did in my place!"

"No he wouldn't—"

Garfield stamped his foot. "He would have **done** what he could to save his **friends**!"

"He would have **finished** the **mission**!" Dayton snarled. "Dammit, Garfield, this is _exactly_ why you're so lost and confused in your life right nao! You have _no_ proper priorities! A superhero doesn't put 'friendship' and 'family' above the needs of the many! Especially not anyone in the Doom Patrol! And _that_ is why you don't belong on any of our missions!"

"And that isn't fair!"

_Creakkkkk!_ An old, wooden door opened. Rita, Elasti-Girl, walked in from the stonework hallway. "What is all this racket?—Oh no, not this argument again..."

"Stay out of this, Rita." Dayton waved. "It's between men—"

"Don't you boss her around!" Garfield snarled.

Dayton glared down at him. "You should **know** your **place**, _Boy_. When Dr. Caulder and I accepted you into our fold, it was to grow and mature into a reliable force against evil—Not to become the deluded, self-absorbed teenage delinquent I see nao before me. If you can't play by the rules and leave yourself room to grow, then you don't belong in the field."

Beast Boy folded his arms. Frowning. "'re one to talk about growing. You're so addicted to that helmet you've got on that you won't take it off!"

"Both of you!" Rita barked. "Stop-"

But Dayton's eyes were as wide as saucers as he marched like a mountain towards the elvin teen. "What. Did. You. Just. **Say**?"

"You heard me!" Garfield took a step forward, head tilted up to face the man. Rita stepped firmly between the two, but it didn't stop the petite metamorph from hissing: "I think you just use the Doom Patrol to hide from the rest of the world, and that helmet of yours just heightens your powers so much that it gives you big rush, so it doesn't hurt so bad. Well, that's totally fake, dude, and **weak**—Cowering from what the very people you save supposedly think of you! You're like a depressed old man scrunched up inside a metal turtle shell!"

"How dare you..." Dayton seethed. "Dr. Caulder made me this to sustain my overactive neurological functions. You know as well as I do that I become a violent, unpredictable, telekinetic handicap without it. I wear it proudly—as I wear my Doom Patrol uniform. And you know why, Garfield? Because being part of the Doom Patrol means something to me that you've obviously forgotten about long ago. And you know what that is? Our so called 'family' that you keep faltering to protect is a _family_ of _freaks_."

Rita flinched.

Garfield merely glared.

Dayton went on: "That's right, **freaks**. A hulking tin can with a human brain, a mummified corpse who can astral project himself, a misunderstood giantess—and you, a green skinned, sharp-toothed little nobody who would much more easily pass himself off as a zucchini in a public school cafeteria than a third baseman on a softball team! You ever look at yourself in the mirror, Beast Boy, and try convince to yourself that you could actually _fit in_ with the rest of this world? Of course you can't. **None** of us can. We're Doom Patrol. Who we are and what we do measures us within the rank of the few—and those few are entitled only to worry over the needs of the many. So the next time I order you to complete the mission first, and save us second—Try and see if you can be a real man and learn the true art of self sacrifice and heroism, because there's a lot more out there worth saving than ourselves. THAT is the merit of a successful superhero team. And successful, we have been, until you disobeyed me with the Quantum Generator."

"People can work together and find another way to be heroic..." Garfield muttered. But it was a quiet voice, wilted. "It doesn't have to be so..so..._stupid_..."

"Then if you wanna try it, be my guest." Dayton performed an exaggerated bow and motioned towards the nearest door. "But leave, and do it out **there**. In the world. With **normal** people. But you won't blend in, Garfield. No, you won't. And do you know why?" Dayton pointed. "Because you are a **freak**. A **freak**, Garfield. Perhaps, in your childhood naiveté, you've forgotten that fact, but that's because you've hung around us too long and made the mistake of getting attached. But no matter how far you go, no matter how many people you meet—Out there, you won't be a hero, and god help you—_**Acting?**_—pfft-you'll just be a freak, like the rest of us. And people never make friends out of freaks, Garfield, only _pets_."

Silence.

Then, the grinding of boots echoed as Dayton twisted about, marched out the room, and left with a loud thud of the closing door.

Garfield's fists clenched...clenched...and limply relaxed as he hung his head.

Rita sighed. She shuffled over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Garfield, I'm sorry. Dayton doesn't know half the time when what he's saying can come across as cold—"

Beast Boy angrily shrugged her hand off his shoulder. "Yeah, well, a good job you did of _defending me_, 'Elasti-girl'. Or did you like it when he called you a 'giantess'?"

"Garfield," she gazed aside into some melancholy shadow of the manor foyer. "...you have to understand, when you've lived as long as the likes of us—"

"Oh, so when I grow up to be as stiff and lifeless as you _adults_, then I can truly be happy with hating who or what I am? That's totally weak! Totally!" He pointed a shaking thumb at himself. "Do you want to know what I am, Rita? I'm a gift. I'm _special_. I'm something that God, Darwin, or Mister Rogers made with a purpose, with love and _for_ love. And if I'm a bit different than other people, and if I'm a bit greener than them, and if I take that much longer trying to come up with a sweet joke to make a few measly people happy, then that makes me even more special. Cuz you know what? It sucks to be **ordinary**, and it sucks to be living in this castle and with this team."

"Garfield—"

"And it **sucks**." He pointed. "That **you**." He pointed at the slammed door. "Would stoop to **marry** a guy like **him**." The elvin boy stood firm and rigid, but there was an undeniable quiver to his lip that he couldn't stop. He had to swallow deeply before shakily producing the next few words: "I'm leaving, Rita. I'm leaving to find another place, another life where I can have friends, _cool_ friends, people who won't chew me out when I do the right thing and care about them as I would have them care about me. And if they laugh at me instead of _with me_, then that's cool too. It's a risk that a dude like me can take. Cuz, as far as Mento is concerned—_and you can tell him this_—I'd gladly be a freak out there anyday. It's certainly a heck of a lot happier than being lonely and miserable..." And he stomped out, but not without adding: "...as the likes of you two."

Even though he wanted to, he didn't slam the door. Perhaps a part of him wanted to hear from the other end of the hallway if Rita would make a sound to call him back. A part of him sank, however, for she didn't say a word.

He left that very night.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(One and a half years ago)**

_**SMASH!**_

A throng of mechanical soldiers flew in a blizzard of shrapnel across a desert runway. The hot setting sun glistened off the freshly charred pavement as a green triceratops skidded several feet, leapt up, morphed into a purple-masked elf in mid-air, and landed in a coiled pose. A few sparkling computer parts settled around him as he sucked in a gush of air and exhaled with a smirk:

"Yanno, for a guy called the Brain—This punk certainly doesn't learn new tricks!"

"This is no time for joking, Beast Boy!" Mento hissed. Steve Dayton seethed through clenched teeth beneath his teslacoiled helment, summoning a bubbling burst of telekinetic energy before launching it outwards into a charging flank of cybernetic infantry. "Quick! Cut Mallah off at the path! He and the Brain must _not_ make it out of this airspace!"

"Gotcha, Gotcha." Beast Boy sighed and ran into a full sprint down the embattled runway. "Monkey See, Monkey Do. Who am I, Jane Goodall?" He dove forward, landing on four Cheetah feet and dashing after a runaway primate on board a hovercraft. On either side of him, the runway stretched wide to reveal hundreds upon hundreds of synthetic footmen charging in on the Doom Patrol from all angles.

As Mento charged another blast into an incoming wave, Elastigirl rushed forward at two-stories' height, barreling through a jeep carrying several automatons with grenade launchers. She winced at the streams of plasma and energy frothing off her enlarged limbs. "Ugghh—General Immortus manufactures so many of these troops, you'd think they would start to smell good for once!"

"Don't hesitate to tear them apart, Rita!" Mento shouted above his telekinetic blasts. "Remember—They're just androids!"

"**Hey!**" Robotman marched by, frowning and ripping the head off a cybernetic lieutenant. "You do realize I'm **right here**!" The metal man snarled, drop-kicked the sparkling skull, and punted it straight into the chest of a front line of reinforcements, sending them collapsing back on each other just as he leapt at them with a thunderous drop fist. "HAAAAAAAAAUGH!" _**THUDDD!**_ Robotman looked up from his crater of destruction and smirked aside. "Hao ya doing, ragdoll?"

"A little busy here, Cliff..." Negative Man sneered from beneath his shrouded form. He ducked the swinging bayonet of an android guard, leapt over a point blanc laser shot, backflipped in mid-air-and then held his breath as he concentrated and fired two tendrils of black energy donward from his upended shoulders. _**SL-SLIIINK!**_ The mechanical thug fell into halves. _Th-Thap!_ Negative Man landed on two feet. "Always figured I was a cut above the rest-"

_**GRIP!**_ Two iron hands gripped onto him from behind. An Immortus Taser burned hot from inside the thug's core.

"Oh, you sweet... ...sweet seal clubber." Negative Man hissed. His body went limp and—_**FW-FWOOSH!**_ A surging black sihlouette of his astral self slunk back, phased through the torso of the android pinning his body still, and proceeded to swing both hands in opposite scissor motions—decapitating the fiend. **_CH-CHTUNK!_** Just as the metal monstrosity fell apart, another one came charging up.

"Aw fudge..." The shadowy figure of Negative Man growled, flew forward, vaulted over his limp body like a pommel horse, and flew straight into the jointed limb of the gun-toting soldier. A brief, lurching second—and the automaton shimmered darkly from the inside out before exploding in an obsidian burst.

_**FL-FLASH!**_ Negative Man's body stumbled onto two feet again as his shadow returned to its hiding place. "Whew... ... ...Now I know what your lunch feels like, Cliff."

"Very funny!" The golden teammate snarled back and charged towards a huge group of soldiers. "At least I don't have to take my BLTs through a straw!"

"You do remember I'm vegetarian, right?"

"You do remember I don't care, right?" The robot grabbed an entire F-16 off the runway, spun once, and slammed the weight of the multi million dollar aircraft into the unsuspecting clump of titanium terrorists. _**KA-POWWW!**_

Negative Man winced. "Way to go, 'Clunkerin' Time'!"

"Rita!" Mento shouted, propelling the sound waves of his voice above the mayhem via telepathic boost. "Where is Beast Boy? Is he intercepting Mallah yet? The jet might take off any second!"

"I-I can hardly see, Steve!" Elastigirl panted, enlarging by another dozen feet and stamping her foot through an exploding tank. _**B-BOOM!**_ "The fog of war from Immortus' troops is positively blinding!"

"I swear..." Mento winced, fighting a migraine as he projected a defensive bubble around himself and the Doom Patrol, deflecting an incoming missile. "If that kid bungled yet another simple task-"

"Look! Dropping from the Zenith like a falling star!" Robotman pointed up.

Negative Man punched another soldier to metal bits and flashed Robotman a papery glare. "The Hell did you read that from-?"

"Dammit, **look!"**

"_AAAAAAAAAAA-**AAAAAAAAH!**_" Two bounding emerald figures landed, cracking the pavement into rubble. They barreled over each other and ended in a furious struggle, twin Beast Boys wrestling in double armbars, seething.

"_**Let... ...Me... ...Go!"**_

"_**You idiot! I need to stop Mallah!"**_

"_**No, I was doing that when you attacked me!"**_

"_**You calling me an imposter?"**_

"_**I'm calling you a doodoo head!"**_

"Oh, it's this shiet." Negative Man groaned.

"Ah Hell-" Robotman turned and glared the leader's way. "Steve-?"

_**ZAP!**_ Mento demolished another wave of androids. "Yeah, yeah..." The coast was clear enough for him to march over and finger his helmet, glaring at the two elflings in combat. "Which one of you deserves a spanking and which one of you **_really_** deserves a spanking?"

"_**Steve! Zap her!" **_One hissed._** "It's me!"**_

"_**Nuh uh! She's the one! She plowed into me like I was a Pennsylvanian snowbank!"**_

"_**She's the one keeping me from stopping Monsieur Mallah and the brain!"**_

"_**Look at those hips—She is SO a she! Not me!"**_

"I'm too miserable to be amused by this." Negative Man droned.

Elastigirl flung a jeep at a fleeing group of androids. _**SMASH!**_ "G-Guys!" She panted. "I can see the jet nao! Mallah's almost about to take off-!"

"Dammit to Hell..." Mento grumbled, his pained eyes darting back and forth at the two. "We haven't time for this-"

"_**Just zap her already!"**_

_**"Dude! Don't listen to her! Steve, who made you a soy milk sundae to down your headache pills last birthday!"**_

"_**You put soy milk into everything! That's a no-brainer!"**_

"_**Dude! I so do not—I mean it, stop messing with me!"**_

_**"Dude! You're the imposter!"**_

_**"Dude!"**_

"_**Dude!"**_

"_**Dude!"**_

"Rrrrrrrrrr**rrrrrrrrrgh**!" Mento clenched this teeth so hard they could crack.

"Steve...calm down," Robotman planted a hand on the telekinetic leader's shoulder. "I can handle this. Ahem—_**Oh my god, kid, look!**_" The golden construct pointed a metal finger. "It's that hot chick, the Yellow Power Ranger!"

"_**Where?"**_ One Beast Boy melodramatically looked over his shoulders with hungry eyes.

"_**Cliff...**_" The second one squinted disgustingly. **_"Weak, man. She's dead."_**

Robotman leaned in and whispered: _"Zap the first one."_

"Works for me." Mento shrugged. _**FLAAAAASH!**_ A bubble of telekinesis knocked the first elf clear off his feet.

"UGGH!" He slammed into the concrete and turned into a she. Seething, a red-clad Madame Rouge stood up and whipped her limbs into razor sharp spears. _**Chiiiing!**_ "It matters very little. I have distracted you imbeciles long enough for my master to-"

_**WHUDDDDD**_! Elastigirl's olympian boot flattened over Madame Rouge, reducing the villain to a sandwiched puddle against the asphalt. "She's got a point, Steve." Rita murmured. "Even I couldn't bound over fast enough to catch up to him nao."

"I'm all out of juice too..." Negative Man slurred, leaning on Robotman. "Not to mention decency-"

"Well we just can't let him get away-!" Mento snarled.

"Oooh! Oooh!" Beast Boy jumped and waved his arm wildly. "Let me! Let me catch up to them-"

"Garfield, you had your chance-"

"Immortus' goons are flattened, Rita's got her pitching arm-"

"-I do?"

"-and there's no time to argue!"

"But-"

Beast Boy spun and gazed up at Elastigirl, grinning through his mask. "Hao about it, Rita?"

"Uhm... ... ..Sure thing, Gar..." She nodded with a helpless grin. "But I'll be right behind you!"

The emerald elf flapped up in the form of an eagle and landed on her shoulder. "Remember..." He slid down her forearm, flipped over her elbow, and landed in her palm in an elfin crouch. "... ...don't throw like a girl."

"You can kiss your next month of Gamefly goodbye."

"Eep! Just throw me and I'll forget I said anything-!"

"Alley-_**OOOP!**_" Elastgirl swung her fist back, snarled, and threw forward with all her might.

"WOOOO-HOOOOOOO-HOOO-HOOOEEY!" Beast Boy spun, spiraled, twirled his missile-like body in midair before morphing into a sail-fish for extra aerodynamic leverage. Halfway through the flinging arc, he morphed into a whale, gained inertia, and came down as a wind-sailing squirrel. Soon, the floundering image of a giant sentient gorilla and its artificially intelligent companion came into his view, climbing haplessly into the passenger bay of a sonic aircraft.

A brief blink, a momentary lapse in reason, and the frowning gorilla paused at the entrance of the parked jet to look up from the runway. "Master—Did you hear that? As if the sky was opening up and raining down juvenile absurdities?"

"**Enough. With. The. Redundant. Observations. Monsieur. Mallah. .Your. Hesitance. Trifles. Me. Almost. As. Much. As. Your. Fur.-"**

"Mon dieu!" The Parisian Gorilla smothered the disembodied cerebrum under his hairy arm and dove away from the jet-

-just as the huge sonic thing exploded from the impact of a hulking green tyrannosaurus rex at one hundred and twenty miles per hour.

_**KA-BOOOOM****!.!.!.!**_

Mallah held the Brain dear, sheltering it from the sizzling bits of flame and debris fluttering all around the asphalt about them.

Four androids from a nearby passenger truck ran up to the smoldering heap that was once the getaway jet. Their tasers aimed at the mess just as-

"_HIYAAA!"_ Beast Boy leapt out of the flames, twirled, dodged a taser blast in mid-air, roped around the first android's gun arm as a snake, and kicked off its shoulder as a kangaroo, sending it crashing into another robot. Another android blasted, blasted, and blasted at him as he dodged every which way as a field mouse, leapt up as a jack rabbit, and then clamped over the thing's face as a skunk—spraying directly into its visor. The blinded robot flailed for the few seconds it took for the changeling to drop to its feet, morph into a gorilla, and fling the horrid thing over the metamorph's shoulder and into the fourth and final robot. _CLANK!_ **KAPOW!** Beast Boy backflipped over the explosion, slid down off the charred wing of the ruined jet, somersaulted, and landed in a heroic pose in front of Monsieur Mallah.

Fists raised. "Ha! Bro at me, come!" Beast Boy blinked, went cross-eyed, and slapped a hand over his masked face. "**Damn it!** And after all _that_-"

"**Mallah. Dispense. With. The. Pest."** The Brain chirped form under the gorilla's armpit.

"Away with you!" Mallah sneered, whipping out a giant pistol and blasting hot plasma bolts the elf's way.

"Whoah!" Beast Boy leapt the exploding asphalt beneath him and sprinted around Mallah's pivoting vision. "Yanno, Bonzo, people without ponchos really shouldn't try to quickdraw-!"

"I will silence you yet, you verdant waste of flesh and bone!" Mallah fired volley after volley.

"What?.!" Beast Boy leapt the blasts.

"I said I will silence-"

"_What?"_ The elf giggled and swung around a stalk of debris stuck into the asphalt before it was blasted to bits.

"I will silence you verd-"

"_What?.?"_

"-waste of flesh and b-"

"_What?.?.?"_ Beast Boy galloped towards him, flipped, dodged a blast, and came down with a spinning dolphin tail.

_**WHAP! **_"OOF!" The Gorilla fell back, dropping the pistol and nearly collapsing onto his hairy butt.

"**Mallah. .You. Are. Starting. To. Embarrass. Me."**

"Yeah, Magilla!" Beast Boy came down, stomping through the laser pistol with an elephant's foot, then grinning toothily. "Listen to the air freshner!"

"I shall skin you like a toad!"

"Ugh—I don't do _tongue_ on a first battle-"

_Cl-Cl-Clink!_ Mallah unhooked three grenades in one palm and tossed them all with a snarl: "Do something about **this**, whelp!"

"Whoa. I. Uhm..." Beast Boy sweatdropped and spun away from the rolling grenades. "BRB!"

_**KABLAAAAM!**_ The asphalt exploded in a fireball of incendiary madness.

Mallah gripped the Brain hard, his back protectively braced against the heat and debris. The giant primate narrowed his hateful eyes. "Finally, if but for a momentarily, auditory respite-"

"**Mallah. If. You. Have. Failed. Me-..."**

_**POWWW!**_ A green rhino barreled through a mound of smoldering debris, sending the grunting gorilla reeling. "HAH!" Beast Boy slid to an elfin stop, juggling an energy core yanked out of a collapsed Immortus lieutenant. "Snap into a Slim Jim! Ee-Hee-Hee-Hee-Hee!"

Mallah hissed, slid a dagger out of his belt, and flung the whole serrated thing—glistening at the changeling. "DIE...!"

Beast Boy grinned. In slow motion he ducked the swing, raising the robot core up in his hand so as to let the flying blade slice the fluctuating interior open. _Scrkkkk! _He spun as the exposed device pulsed and glowed hotly in his grasp. "**Ka-me-ha-me-**" He came to a kneeling stop, aiming the slitted opening of the thing straight out at Mallah. "**-HAAAAAA!**"

_**PFTCHOOOOO!**_ A hot beam of energy discharged out of the device, knocking Mallah onto his furry hide. _"OOOF!"_ The fanged primate winced, snarled, and got up to his feet—blinking, at first curious—then horrified to realize that his lord and master was nowhere to be found. "M-Master? Master?.!.?"

"There!" _**SLAP!**_ The dizzied Brain was planted hard onto Mallah's crown. Beast Boy stood back, chewing on an invisible carrot. "Kinda big for a fezz, but if we get you some cymbals—Nobody will notice."

"**YOU-"** Mallah snatched the Brain with one hand and raised a fist with another.

"**Mallah. .Allow. Me."** The Brain's eyeslits glowed. A panel opened in the side of the cylindrical skull, popping free a circular disc. **"Employ. This. .It. Will. Cancel. Out. His. Superpowers. .Though. How. They. Have. Managed. To. Vex. You. I. Cannot. For. The. Life. Of. Me. Explain."**

"Woo boy..." Beast Boy blinked, irises dilating. "Fluff just got Kaizo..."

"So you _**do**_ remember the last time we used this on you... ..." Mallah sneered, and readied his pitching arm. "Treasure the thought of you drowning in your own venomous juices, you abomination!"

Beast Boy readied his lithe body in a squat. "Nuts to you. I happen to have a degree in monkey dodge ball-"

"_**RRRGH!"**_ Mallah roared and flung the disc.

"HAAA-" Beast Boy shrieked for good measure, leapt tall, backflipped, and stylishly dodged the soaring, sparkling discus. He landed in a squat and pumped a fist. "HA! No wonder the French are only good at cheese and Mario Kart-!"

Mallah smirked.

Beast Boy froze, realizing that the disc was overthrown on purpose. As a large series of thunderous steps filled the surrounding air, he soon realized why.

_**BZZZT-TTTT!**_

"_**Aaaaaa-AAAAA!"**_

"Oh no..." The elf spun towards the roaring shriek. "R-Rita!"

"_**Nnnnn-Nnngh!"**_ Elastgirl winced and jolted all over, having just arrived on scene to become the hapless victim of the thrown leech-disc, which was presently pinned to her convulsing forehead. "Huhhhhh..." She exhaled and fell in a smoking heap, her entire body shrinking so fast that a space of twenty feet yawned beneath her flailing form-

"I got ya!" Beast Boy scampered _away_ from the fight, morphing into a giant wooly mammoth whose trunk caught the woman's body.

"**And. Nao. We. Have. Our. Exit."** Brain electronically droned as a giant hovercraft lowered into view. The liver-spotted visage of General Immortus briefly appeared in the cockpit, nodding, then pulling a lever as a coil of rope lowered—which Mallah gripped tightly to like the instinctual jungle beast that he was. **"It. Is. Always. Elementary. To. Thrash. The. Elementary."** And the hovercraft took off towards the desert horizon with the two villains in tow.

Beast Boy morphed into elf form as he gently layed Elastigirl down. "Come on Come on Come on-" He hissed, struggled, but finally managed to wrench the sparkling disc off her forehead. _Zzzt!_ He winced at the electrical discharge and flung the nasty device away. Panting, he whipped his mask off and shook her shoulders. "Come on, Rita! Snap out of it! Scold me! Yell at me! Sob at me—Anything! Just don't be a forever-shrunken-and-Lifetime-victimized-mannequin, please! I don't want you to go kaputzy cuz of me!"

"Nnngh... ... ...I...I-I'll be fine, Gar-Gar...just..." She winced, sputtered. "... ...g-gotta catch my breath... ... ...too much bloodrush, I swear..." She coughed.

He smiled. "That's cuz, no matter hao huge you are, you've always got a big heart."

"Awww..." She winced. "Beast Boy-"

"_**BEAST BOY!"**_

The elf winced, ears deflating. "Hooboy. Cue _Metalingus_."

Steve Dayton marched up, holstering his Mento helmet, his eyes flaring in the way that only Dayton's eyes could flare. "What the Hell is this?"

"Uhhh..." Beast Boy blinked at himself, Rita in his arms. He snuggled up to her and fluttered his eyes. "K-Kodak moment?"

"You think this is a dayum joke?.!.? You think this is a game?"

"... ... ...Twix moment?"

"I told you _**stop**_ the jet! Not smash it in half-"

"Figured it was a bit harder to fly that way."

"-and let three of our arch nemeses escape!"

"Dude! Mr. Geriatric Command & Conquer bought himself a flying saucer! I mean—Who the Hell _writes_ that shiznet?"

"Don't cut the kid too low, Steve..." Negative Man muttered as he sauntered up on limp feet. "I saw the battle from afar. Friggin' kid was handing Mallah's hairy butt to him on a silver platter. Brain too-"

"Until he _**abandoned**_ his directive and **_let them_** escape! Just like that!" Dayton rubbed his aching forehead.

"Yo, Steve, buddy!" Cliff pounded up on metal feet, a heap of dismantled android soldiers flung over his shoulder. "He only did it to save Rita! That coward of a noodle bowl tossed another one of them discs at us again! Elastigirl got the burn!"

"And hao many times do I have to remind you people-!" Dayton roared. "The success of the mission takes priority! Dr. Caulder's enemies are vile, souless terrorists! Who knows what atrocities they might commit nao that they've gotten away from their HQ scott free? All of us are expendable so long as we can _prevent_ this from happening _again and again!"_

"It's...m-my fault, St-Steve..." Elastgirl hiccuped and winced, sitting up dizzily against Beast Boy's grasp. "I-I should have been more careful and realized Brain had an ace up his...erm... ...pan."

"It's not right for you to apologize, Rita!" Beast Boy frowned. "Who could have seen that coming-?"

"Truth was... ...I was a little distracted..." She hissed.

"With what-?"

"We can't **afford** distractions. Nnnngh..." Dayton struggled through another migrained, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He shuddered and slapped his Mento helmet back on, immediately calming down. "Alright. Alright—Beast Boy, stay here and watch after Elastigirl. Make sure she's not seriously hurt. Negative Man, if you've regained your charge-"

"Yeah yeah... ...long ranged recon." The shrouded man groaned. "Yanno...You're not the _only one_ who has headaches, Steve."

"Less griping and more astral projecting. Robotman, give him a boost with your energy charge if you've got some."

"Hao about a swift kick in the papyrus?"

"I'd tell you to go stick your head in a fridge but somehao that'd probably be bringing your mom into the equation."

"Bite me, Larry."

"If I could find a part that didn't break my teeth, I might."

"**ENOUGH! Both of you! **Yeesh—Am I babysitting the Doom Patrol or leading it?.!.? I gotta call the Doc—let him know of our latest blunder..."

As the three men wandered from the smoldering sight of the final battle, Garfield remained with Rita, sighing defeatedly.

"B-Beast Boy... ...?"

"Y-Yeah?" He immediately smiled down at her.

"I'm sorry for being distracted..."

He smirked and steadied her shoulders. "And just what could make you run straight into a flying disc of life-sucking doom, as if it was some god forsaken crime?"

"I was... ..." She shuddered, a wilted look to her face. "... ...I've never seen you go solo into a battle like that before. And I was the one who _threw you_. I guess... ...erm... ... ...I-I guess I was just worried, is all..."

"Heheh...Well you didn't have to be..." Beast Boy winked. "I was throwing every Planet of the Apes joke I had in my arsenal. I was gonna move onto Ten Commandments when Brain gave Mallah the go ahead to pull a Kevin Nash with that coffe coaster of his."

"I know that this team and what it does is important, Beast Boy... ..But I don't ever want to lose you..." She coughed, wheezed, and relaxed with a warm smile. "I'd hate myself forever if I lost my Gar-Gar..."

"Awww... ... ..." He snuggled her shoulder and hugged her close. "I care for you too, Mom-" A blink, and he bit his lip, blushing.

"Hmmm-hmmm-hmmm..." She chuckled slightly.

"Erm..." He gritted his teeth with a sweatdrop. "That... ...uh...th-that sorta just came out... ...Ya know. Like surprise kittens in the closet..."

"Nothing to be ashamed of, Garfield..." She patted his wrist gently.

"Yeah... ..." He smiled and rested against her, but his eyes were melting away in a far off place. "... ...I g-guess not... ..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Three and a half years ago)**

"Congratulations, Beast Boy!"

"Woo-hoo! Way to go, squirt!"

"Heh...Here's to beginner's luck, eh kiddo?"

Applause. Cheers. Robotman clapped his metallic hands. Negative Man gave a thumb's up. Rita hoisted a tiny, masked Beast Boy up into a hug and sat him down at the end of the table in the Caulder Manor dining room. There was a large, yellow, marble cake on the table with '_Beast Boy's First Mission'_ squirted triumphantly across the top in green frosting.

"It was your first mission! And a successful one at that!" Rita hovered behind where he sat and rested her hands on his shoulders. "We couldn't have defeated Red Jack without your help, Beast Boy. So we wanted to show you how thankful we are for your help in the field this week! And also to say 'Welcome to the Doom Patrol'."

"Wow! Y-You didn't have to..." He beamed, then bit his lip with a touch of uncertainty as he nervously eyed the cake. "Erm...is it-?"

"Hehehe," Rita gave him a little hug. "Don't worry. It's vegan."

"Wicked!" He squealed. "Thanks a whole bunch!"

"Mmmm...Vegan bakery," Robotman folded his arms. "Sounds exotically scrumptious."

Negative Man tilted his enshrouded head up at him. "And how the heck are **you** supposed to **taste** the difference?"

"Hey, man, I dig the texture."

"You're full of it, ya walking trash can."

"Toilet Paper rack!"

"Oh, prick me, do I not leak…"

"Why I oughta—"

Mento marched up between them. "Knock it off, you two. Save it for the scissormen."

"Yeah, whatever." "Damn, wyrd-ass yokels."

Mento held his arms behind his back and stood before Beast Boy and the cake. He smiled. "That was very impressive: the way you stalled Red Jack long enough for us to give the finishing blow. Turning into a rhinoceros and smashing holes into the walls around him?"

Beast Boy bit his lip. "Well...erm...the dude really didn't seem to like sunlight much. And I wasn't all that happy to see what he was doing to those poor little butterflies…"

Laughter. An air of joy, levity, as they all hovered around the green changeling.

"In all seriousness, though," Mento raised a hand, smiling. "If today is any indication, you're going to be an exceptional addition to this team, Garfield. Oh—wait—I'm sorry. _**Beast Boy**__._"

"So you **do** like the name?" the elfin boy beamed.

"Certainly. It is...fitting, if nothing else. Nao, if you will excuse me," Mento marched off. "I have some reports to make of our last battle. Enjoy yourselves, team. Just don't forget that we have training tomorrow morning."

"Oh, I look forward to it with great anticipation." Negative Man rolled unseen eyes and shrugged. "It's not like I'm capable of sleep. So let's all rub it in Larry's face and schedule the next important meeting _twelve frickin' hours from nao!_"

"How can we rub anything in your face when we can't even see it?" Robotman jabbed. "Much less care to?"

"Are you going to cut the cake, Threepio? Or do I have to spill ectoplasm all over it trying to do it myself?"

"Fine, fine, lemme just grab a knife."

"Try using your elbow. It's certainly a lot sharper than your wit."

"Oh go crawl into a pyramid and die."

"Feh."

The two walked off, leaving Rita and Garfield alone at the table, chuckling.

"You'll get used to those two. They mean well. Really."

"Is the Doctor here?" Beast Boy asked, craning his neck to look around. "I want him to know we got rid of Red Jack for good!"

"Ohhhhhhh-I'm afraid Niles had to be at a convention today, honey. He's in Opal City with Dr. Magnus and Dr. Stone, discussing new forms of bio-electric perpetual motor animation."

"Whozzitwhatsimagasm?" Garfield went all but cross-eyed.

"Hehehehe—They're working on a way to help injured people live again—Kinda like Cliff."

"Ohhhh...Well, that's cool. Maybe Robotman will someday meet a Robotgirl!"

"Well, wouldn't _that_ be interesting?" Elasti-girl smiled.

"Yeah!" Beast Boy hopped in his seat. "Then, like, they could get married and give birth to a toaster!"

"Snkkkkt—" Rita almost collapsed. She leaned over the chair and cupped a hand over her mouth. "Heheheheheh—Ohhhhhh Garfield, you're too much. Just don't say that one when Cliff's in the room."

"Why not? He loves toasters."

"If you insist, Beast Boy. If you insist."

Garfield took a deep breath. His smiling lips lingered as his green eyes gazed warmly into the distance, but suddenly cooled. "R-Rita?" He murmured.

"Yes, Garfield?" She knelt beside him.

He look at her. "Did I really..._really_ help us save people?"

"Hmmm...Yes, Garfield. Red Jack was a menace. A lot of souls would have been in trouble if we hadn't stopped him."

"Like, _lot_—lot of people?"

"I would think as much."

He exhaled—like a breath of relief—and smiled once more, softly this time. "That's pretty kewl. Just what I wanted."

"Well, that's sweet, Beast Boy." She ruffled his head of green hair. "You're a superhero after all, in my book."

His eyes fell to the wayside, though. He bit his lip and muttered: "I just...k-kinda wish I was able to...yanno..._save them_ too."

Rita's lips pursed. A blink, and she inhaled sharply. "Oh Garfield..." She slid over and hugged him closely, cradling his head inside the nape of her neck. "They would be so...so very proud of you. They would..."

He sniffed and hugged her back, resting his eyes shut. "I wish they were here nao...To know that I'm helping keep people safe. I think it's what they would have wanted from me..."

"I know it, Garfield. And—somehow—I think they know it too."

He smiled at that. A touch of wetness formed a sheen under his shut eyes.

A silent moment...then...

"We should go down to the village and buy a stroller."

"A _stroller_ Garfield?"

"For Robotman's baby toaster, of course!"

"Ohhhhhhhhhh Garfield," Rita rolled her eyes and chuckled. "You're impossible."

"Hehehehehe...But you laughed, didn't you?"

"Heheh..."

"Didn't you?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Four Years Ago)**

A young elf curled on a couch, his green skin still scuffed in various spots from bruises and the signs of harrowly escaped doom. And yet, serene and exhausted, the petite child rested—his head nestled in Rita's lap, while the young woman sat beside him before a fireplace, gently stroking his shoulder and back.

"... ... ..." Rita glanced up from Garfield and towards the other two in the central room of the Manor. "He has nowhere to go. His parents are dead. His other relatives deceased. His only foster parent-"

"Is in jail. Rightfully so. And thanks to us." Steve Dayton remarked, leaning against the hearth and rubbing his temple. He winced ever so slightly, hissed his breath out into a sigh, and murmured on: "To think that on top of government embezzlement, Nicholas Galtry chose domestic violence as a hobby. I know the Logans were an intelligent pair of people whom the Science Community can never replace... ...but they sure had a terrible choice in a godparent."

"They never wanted this to happen.. ..." Rita remarked. The woman gazed sympathetically down at the sleeping child. "_Nobody_ would wish this for someone so young. To be diseased, transformed, orphaned—And nao add physical abuse to the mix?"

"You've always had a soft spot for hard luck cases, Rita..." Steve smiled.

"Is that why you fell in love with me?"

"Also, you can think up mathematical equations like Athena on steroids—Nnngh.." He clutched his head with both hands, shuddering.

Rita blinked, lips pursing in concern. "Steve! Maybe you should-"

"N-No...Rita..." He hissed, rubbed his skull, and slowly...slowly relaxed from where he stood. "I-I just...I just gotta regain control..."

"_Not without the helmet, you won't."_

The two glanced over as a pair of wheels glistened in the flickering firelight. Dr. Niles Caulder rolled up to a stop and folded his hands together. "Steve... ...I've told you time and time again. Your migraines are going to get worse without the aid of the neurological suppresion field that I built into your invention-"

"I know, I know, Doctor. It's just that..." Steve took a shuddering breath. "It feels almost like everytime I turn to that thing and slap it on my head, I only grow more and more dependent on it. I'm thankful for all of the modifications that you've made, but I built that thing originally to _amplify_ my telepathic abilities. And it _still_ serves that purpose."

"I think you simply used it in excess over your latest adventure..." Dr. Caulder remarked, briefly stroking his beard as he gazed at his two proteges and their little guest. "Though I do not blame you. That embezzling fiend had to be taken down."

"Yeah...besides," Dayton glanced once more towards the elfling on the couch. "I don't like it when kids get thrown into the mix... ...in the worse way."

"Doctor, have you read up on the Logans' child?" Rita Farr asked.

"Read up?" Caulder briefly smirked. He wheeled a bit closer to the couch, staring at the slumbering green kid. "I used to work side by side with Marie and Mark. I even met their exceptional _Garfield_ on a few occasions. Mmmm...yes. He was quite the talk in the medical circles. It's not everyday that a married pair of geniuses put their life's work into saving their offspring."

"The disease he has..." Rita narrowed her eyes. "It's forced him into a state of metamorphosis and physical flux?"

"Hardly..." The Doctor boredly corrected. "The state of transmogrification is a bi-product of the serum which the Logans concocted. As a matter of fact, it's the only thing keeping him from succumbing to the Sakutia virus in his arteries."

"Sakutia... ..." Rita blinked. "That's fatal to humans." She glanced down at the sleeping boy. "I see... ... ...So long as he's not human-"

"He can't suffer from or transmit the disease." Caulder nodded. "As for the green skin, well, science _does_ have its eccentric mysteries, nao does it?"

"Isn't he human right nao, though?" Steve asked.

Rita smirked cheekishly at her boyfriend and all but lifted the pointed ears off the boy's skull. "Have you even _**bothered**_ to notice these, Steve?"

"It would seem that the boy has naturally chosen to exist regularly in another humanoid shape that isn't _Homo sapien_."

"Another humanoid?" Steve blinked confusedly. He rubbed an aching skull while regarding the child with a credulous look. "My knack for biological history isn't as good as my penchant for metaphysical neurology. Doctor, are you suggesting that he's possessing the form of—_I dunno_—some evolutionary missing link?"

"Hrmmm... ... ...I am sick to death of everyone insinuating that humanity has a missing link," the Doctor boredly looked over. "In all seriousness, Dayton, even you as captain of your team should know that there are unexplained biological entities at large in our world. And the only reason that they are 'unexplained' is because modern civilization, in all its archival observation, has not had the good fortune to document everything that rightfully exists. There are legends that go far back to the beginning of recorded history of human entities, distant cousins to Homo sapiens, that ventured forth into landscapes where the descendants of Mesopotamia refused to venture. Who are we to surmise who may or may not be living beneath the shadows of our self-righteous sentries, even in modern day? The Logans' serum may indeed be a key to understanding that which we are blind to."

"Remarkable hao so many mysterious and off-key phenomenas stumble upon your stately manor, Doctor..." Dayton briefly mused.

"Hmmm... ..." Caulder stroked his beard and gazed over towards the couch. "I would very greatly appreciate the opportunity to understand the Logans' serum a lot more, especially since their life's work is nao sharing our humble abode. That boy could hold the secret to many mysteries—not to mention many gifts that could be essential to the structure of this Patrol we're presently forming."

"Wait a second Doc..." Dayton squinted over, wincing slightly. "My telepathy is a little bruised tonight. Are...Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"Yes... ...**Yes**." Rita looked up, firmly capturing the attention of the two men. "We **should**."

"Should do what, Rita?"

"Take him in." She said earnestly.

"You mean like _adoption_?"

"I mean like **family**." She remarked with a heavy nod of the head. "He needs a place to live, to be safe, to grow up. Where better to do that than around superheroes? I-I mean, that's what we're becoming, aren't we? We all have strange and misunderstood powers.. ... ..But we've learned to make good with them. What's to say that little Garfield here can't do the same thing under our guidance?"

"Gawd, Rita..." Steve rolled his eyes, chuckling. "You just wanna play dollhouse, and nao you've got a real kid to it with!"

"That's so not the case!" She hissed at him, then frowned. "And besides, even if it was—So what?" She glanced her eyes sideways, toward the shadows. "...you and I both know what my elasti-gifts have robbed me of..."

Steve bit his lip, suddenly poked in a painful place...gazing sympathetically at her...

"It does seem like a fair exchange," Dr. Niles Caulder unemotionally murmured. "We offer the child sanctum, tutelage, and safety. And he offers us a chance to learn more about the animal—_and human_ kingdom."

"Doctor...The kid's been through a lot! What are you suggesting?" Dayton shook off a throbbing headache and shrugged. "We slap a team sticker on his forehead and toss him into danger?"

"Nonsense, I just mean-"

"He's been through a lot! Way too much Hell for a kid his age to have grown up with! I can't look out for both the team _and_ his scrawny little butt! It's enough that I have to keep Cliff and Larry and Rita from getting their skulls crushed under Monsier Mallah's fists—But nao I've got to...g-got to...Nnngh..." Dayton stumbled back, clutching his head.

"St-Steve!" Rita gasped. She gently moved Garfield and bounded up to her feet, rushing over to hold the team leader up. "Are you okay? D-Do you... ...Do you want me to get the Mento helmet...?"

"N-No...I-I think I can handle this tonight..." He smiled achingly, reaching over to squeeze her shoulder. "Everytime I put that thing on, I start to feel like a walking steamroller. One track mind, and all of it on terrorist hunting."

She smiled. "A time and a place for that. Maybe you should rest."

"I-I can't just leave this little beastly boy's fate hanging..." He chuckled, then sighed. "I know he needs a place to stay, Rita. But this just isn't the right environment. Don't you think?"

"Beastly boy..." Caulder murmured aloud in though.

"Steve... ..." She patted his shoulder. "You take care of the Patrol. I'll take care of our guest. And then, if he wants to accept our invitation, we'll keep playing the ballgame that way. Hao does that sound?"

"... ... ...Gawd, you are such a woman." Steve smiled, wheezed through a headache, but smiled squintingly at her. "Just my favorite type..."

"If there's one thing I'll never fail to admire about you, Steve, it's your tendency to state the obvious." She stuck a tongue out.

"Sounds fair to me." Caulder generalized the room's conversation, swiveled around, and rolled out of the light of the fireplace. "We'll discuss this in the morning. Steve, I suggest you try using your helmet while sleeping. You'll be of no use in strategizing our pursuit of General Immortus across North Africa without your brainwaves in tact."

Steve sighed and hung off of Rita. "He's right, you know."

"Not always, Steve." Rita murmured, brushing the side of his stubbly cheek. "Nobody can be right all of the time. You know it's not healthy to assume so."

He gazed at her. "Not even if it's you who's right all of the time?"

"Well, I **am** the exception."

"Heheh..."

"Heeheehee..."

The two held each other, drifting by the fireplace. They gazed over at the sleeping form on the couch, sharing a breath.

"P-Promise me something, Steve... ..."

"What's that, Rita?"

"If we do take him in... ... ...And he becomes one of us... ..." She gulped. "... ...let's do our best to make sure he turns out _**normal**_."

Steve nodded, but was embattled with a momentary migraine as he struggled to utter: "I can only do my b-best..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Five and a half Years Ago.)**

He ran as fast as his green legs could carry him.

The tumultuous crashing could be heard for several dozen square acres all around the African countryside.

The river boiled, sped up, bubbled, and roared all the more—all the faster—into a shifting array of rapids, as the floodwaters thickened.

There were other people running too. Shouting people. Howling people.

But he outran them.

Because he saw...because he saw...

With quivering, tearing green eyes...

He saw them, in a blink, flailing in a burst of African sunlight—and then jerked ghostly under as the runaway boat capsized, taking the two of them, devouring them, under a hurdling fountain of floodwater.

Garfield's mouth opened. He heard someone screaming, pitifully, in the distance, and it sounded ever so faintly like him.

In the second it took for the memory of their morning breakfast voices to blip in and out of his pointed ears, he was already in mid-leap—straight towards the bubbling death, after them.

But a pair of strong arms yanked him back, anchoring him to the river's edge—on dry land. A missionary's voice shouted in Swahili. Bodies soared past him with oars, sticks, poles, and ropes—poking and prodding and doing everything to stop the upturned boat_—the coffin_—from floating off into eternity.

Garfield flailed, jerked—morphed his arms and legs into different claws, tentacles, and tails—But he was too small, too weak, too young...

...too late, to dive in, and save them like they had saved him.

Three days later, on a gray afternoon, haloed by strangers in black, he finally landed his dive, sprawled over their caskets, cremated by the Serengeti Sun. But when it was his turn to drown, it was only in tears.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Seven Years ago.)**

Five year old Garfield Logan was unhappy.

Lying flat on his back on a cot, surrounded by mosquito netting, he let his frustration be known to the world in an impervious, iron-wrought pout.

"Oh, Gar-Gar." A fair-skinned woman knelt by his bed and was rebandaging a half-healed wound on the boy's arm. "My little Gar-Gar, why the long face. Why are you so mad?"

"Why do you think I am mad?" He grunted. He looked with disparaging eyes at his skin...his 'new' skin...his awkward, near-shiny, green-as-the-forest skin. Only the constant ringing of crickets outside the humid tent drowned out the deep, guttural grunts of displeasure from his nostrils. "Look what Daddy's stupid medicine did to me."

"Honey..." Marie Logan leaned over and gave him a firm look. "That 'stupid medicine' saved your life from a horrible disease called _Sakutia_. Remember when that strange and scary monkey attacked and bit you? It made you sick, darling. Daddy and I almost lost you. What we did, we did to make sure you could still be alive with us so that we could love you today."

"I might as well be dead." Garfield's lips pouted all the more. "I'm all green and icky looking. None of the other kids are gonna want to play with me."

"Honey, you don't know that!" Marie smiled hopefully. "Just you wait and see. They'll all want to learn about all of the new animal tricks you can do!"

"You mean they'll all want to get rides on me." The little boy hid his eyes behind a forearm and mumbled further. "Like I'm their horsie...or donkey..."

"You can't really expect that, Gar-Gar." Marie said. An affectionate smile, and she gently stroked the tips of his nao-pointed ears. "As a matter of fact, I just bet that when you get into high school, the girls are gonna find these new ears of yours positively adorable."

"Oh, ew! Ew! Nao I _really_ hate it! Yuck!" He shook and quivered all over. "Get it out of me! Get this medicine out of me!"

"Nao don't be so difficult, Garfield," She said firmly. "You need to lie down for another day or two while we make sure you get fully better." A groaning sigh. "It'll be a long time before high school. Trust me. You'll _get used to it._"

"No I won't." He forcefully sobbed.

Right then and there, a tall, handsome Mark Logan walked in through the family tent flap. "Just got done talking with Marlow about the next few dosages and—Wuh ohhhhhhhhh. What do we have here? You're not being sick _and_ grumpy, are you, son?"

Garfield merely folded his little arms and made a great effort of avoiding both parents' gaze.

Marie sighed exasperatingly and looked up at Mark. "I've tried everything just short of baptizing him. I think he's been bitten by more than a monkey when we weren't watching."

"You know...It could have been Jillian," Mark winks at Marie with a smirk. "She could have taken a plane across the Atlantic, landed, snuck into the tent, and given Garfield cooties while he was asleep."

"BLEAKKKK!" Garfield writhed all over.

"HAH! So he's not so comatose after all!" Mark knelt down on the other side of the cot. He gently patted his wife's shoulder. "I got the camp's tub reserved this evening. Why don't you go and relax some, honey. I'll stand guard around Fort Mopey for a while. "

She sighed, but eventually relented with a soft smile. "If you think you'll be anymore successful than I've been, you can certainly try."

"A most harrowing feat indeed," Mark smirked.

"I already replaced his bandage and took his temperature. It's still at the same normal levels as yesterday—"

"So he's making a full recovery. Splendid."

"And then some." She leaned over the cot, kissed Mark on the lips, and then kissed the little boy's green forehead. "Try not to be so stiff and angry, Gar-Gar. It'll make it harder to fall asleep."

"What's the point in sleeping anymore?"

"Well, lil guy...," Mark scooted closer while Marie quietly exited the tent. "...it's a rather natural trait of living things, and they all do it in different ways. So there must be some evolutionary purpose in it." He shrugged and gazed off towards an invisible 'classroom' as he lectured towards the canvass walls of the lantern-lit tent. "Cats, for instance, can sleep up to fourteen hours of a normal day. The common bat sleeps up to nineteen hours a day. This, of course, is very different from the giraffes that you, me, and Mommy see each day—they only need about an hour and a half to two hours a day to sleep. Can you believe that? Heh—And don't get me started on the dolphin, who needs to keep one eye and half of the brain awake at all times so that it won't drown while snoozing in the middle of the ocean—"

"Why would I care how animals sleep?"

Mark blinked in 'surprise' at his son. "Why, I think it's _extremely_ relevant to you, Garfield. You can do a lot of tricks nao that most other kids can't even dream of! Remember three months ago, during show-and-tell at the missionary school? You got upset at Dakarai for showing up with his three-foot, pet iguana? And it wowed all the students more than your hippo-jokes standup?"

"Nnngh..." Garfield gazed aside, frustrated.

"Well, nao you could flick your wrist and—_viola!_—you can become an even _bigger_ lizard than any one he's ever owned! I mean, heck, you could become something none of the kids have ever seen before! Ever wanted to walk around the village some day as a wooly mammoth? Or a dinosaur?"

"No! I don't like it! I hate it!" He grunted. "I'm wyrd nao! And all the kids will hate me!"

"Hate you?" Mark rubbed his chin in dramatic thought. "Nao, why would they hate you?"

"Because I'm different from them. And I can do wyrd stuff. They're going to laugh at me."

Mark took a deep breath and folded his hands together. "Well, lil Gar...You got a bit of a point there. I really can't argue with that. People do laugh at others. But you wanna know why they do it?"

"Because there're are wyrd people like me that they don't like?"

"Noooooooo..." Mark smiled. He rested a hand on his son's shoulder. "Because when people don't understand someone or something, they sometimes use laughter to hide the fact that they're afraid."

"Afraid?"

"Mmmhmm...More often than you'd imagine."

"But I-I don't want to scare people!" Garfield shuddered. "I'm not scary! I'm just a kid! Like them!"

"And there's nobody better to show them that than you, Gar-Gar. It may take time. And yes, you may have to deal with some silly—even dumb people every nao and then. But you're not going to convince others that you're the same _you_ that you've always been by hiding behind a pout and refusing to make friends."

"But what if they think I'm wyrd and never stop laughing at me?"

"And—heheh—who says that you're wyrd, Gar-Gar?"

"..."

Mark pointed/poked into his son's chest. "You, my son, are _special_. You are _beautiful_. And you have always been. You're no more different from your friends than you were before, and yet you're no less different. Why, jeez! If all of us in the world was the same, and nobody was different, it would sure be a boring world—Wouldn't it?"

"You mean it's good to be wyrd?"

"I mean, it's wonderful—absolutely wonderful, to be you. And nothing else but 'you'. In this life that you live, son, you won't have a chance to be anyone but yourself. You must spend that time—all that wonderful, happy, glorious time—to be 'you'. After all, nobody else can _be_ you...but **you**." He smiled. "Just like nobody else can be me and Mom—or love you anywhere nearly as much as we love you. And yet, there'll be others in your life, Garfield—friends, colleagues, classmates, maybe even a wife some magical day—who will love you in ways that only they can." He gently brushed his hand through his green hair. "You see, my son. Nobody is ever wyrd, or odd. People are unique, and precious. And it is our part in this world to see that they live long, healthy, prosperous lives being themselves. Only that way can we identify them, and appreciate them."

"...you mean I-I can actually have friends still?" Garfield stammered. "...and they wouldn't mind being around me...because I'm special?"

"Because you're **you**," Mark said. "If people only hung out with others who resembled themselves to the T, then the world would run very, _very_ low on friends. **Fast**."

"...," Garfield fidgeted a little, but glanced hopefully up at his father. "And you don't just want me to stop pouting?"

Mark squinted. "I _always_ want you to stop pouting." He then lowered and gently kissed his son on the forehead. "But even moreso, Mommy and I love you too much to ever lie to you."

"...really?"

"Absolutely! And I can prove it!" He cleared his throat, struck a dramatic pose, and uttered: _**"I, Mark Oliver Logan, hereby swear to take his little, green-skinned son to go see the elephant herd by the south river in three days' time."**_

"Really!" Garfield beamed. "Y-You're telling the truth?"

"Sure am!" Mark said, looked over his shoulder 'covertly', and leaned over to hoarsely whisper: "Though it may be best not to announce this _trip_ to Mommy so soon."

"Why not tell her?" Garfield blinked. "Don't you love her too?"

"Absolutely!" Mark said. "But, between you and daddy, son, there're sometimes five or six days out of the month where a white lie wouldn't hurt."

Garfield giggled. "You're funny Daddy…."

"Heh...wait till you're older, kiddo." He patted his cheek. "Then you'll learn that bad jokes are hereditary in the Logan family tree."

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Gar-Gar?"

"I can nao turn into any animal? Any animal I want?"

"Well, I suppose so. We'd have to take it day by day to figure that out. Why'd you ask?"

"Do you think that next show-and-tell I can actually turn into a hippo and beat Dakarai with my jokes?"

Mark laughed and patted his son's shoulder. "Son, I **know** you could." The father chuckled.

And the son laughed...and the son smiled...

And the night...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(**Seven and a Quarter Years Ago**)

The jungle shook elastically, leaves and insects and small heart-pattering mammals scattering in all directions away from an epicenter of noise, a halo of shrieking undulating terror—the sound of a four year old child in excrutiating pain.

On the forest floor, the nubile Garfield Logan thrashed and howled in pain, clutching an arm that had been punctured, that had been lacerated, that had been robbed of a good two and a half quarter inch of flesh, leaving behind a raggedy gash of exposed insides—laced with seeping and dripping green fluid.

The boy's bloodshot eyes darted every which way—pulsing in bright red arteries—hapless to glance at the fleeting tail of a small monkey thing, scampering away into the local bushes, leaving the scene of the horrendous crime. Then the Earth spun once more, and the yelping boy beheld the glittering sunlight filtering down through the emerald canopy above him. He hissed through clenched teeth in a momentary but futile attempt to silence his own howling pains, in an effort to hear the voices of his concerned parents calling out to him—something he had lost track of, flippantly, over twenty minutes ago when he had decided without warning to walk off the hiking trail from directly behind them, in pursuit of a fuzzy green animal.

"Nnnng-Mrraaah...haaa-ahaaaa...Mmm-Mommmmyy...D-Daddyyy..." He curled over in the soil and tall grass, clutching his fleshy hole that was too burning and too soaking in an invasive fluid to bother bleeding. "Nnngh—It hurts...It hurtsss-sss-ssss...mnnahaaahhhh..."

As his shrieking voice filtered through the jungle, two voices desperately—howbeit faintly—echoed back. But they were too far away and too hidden beyond the foliage of the leafscape to get to him, to help him, to hold him, to tell him it was all okay and make the pain go away make the pain go away make the pain go away...

"Nnnh-Mhaaaaa...unngh...hurts so much...mmmphhh..." His eyes streamed with tears. He felt a numbness spreading through his body. His heart pounding faster and faster, but colder and colder, as a deep sweat poured over him—stinging his twitching eyes—teaching him in so few breaths that no amount of words could ever convince a four year old: that life is not forever. And he sputtered to feel it, and to feel it slipping from him. "Mommy... ..." And this time it was a wilted breath, limbs freezing to their joints, his pupils dilating into the earthen crucible of very real, and very lonely fear.

And yet.. ... ..

He wasn't alone for very long... .. ... ... ...

A soft padding of footsteps. A parting of leaves and branches. Grass bending, soil spreading-

"Nnngh...M-Mommy...?" He panted desperately, just as the world turned fuzzy, just as the ceiling of the jungle lurched—for suddenly he wasn't lying on the warm soil, but being carried several feet above the ground, cradled in someone's smooth arms, bounding so fast above the underbrush that it was inhuman.

The boy didn't question it. He didn't fight it. He snuggled into those bounding arms and waited—as the world blurred around him—to deliver him unto salvation or death, whichever came first.

Until the bright sky parted at the edge of the jungle. The Sun kissed down in a liquid warmth. And his parents' voices siren-swung around to reach his twitching pink ears...

_Plop!_

He found himself rolling to a stop on the hiking path, wincing all over. Dropped like an egg returned to its nest.

And appropriately so:

"G-GAR!"

"Oh my god-"

"GAR!" Marie Logan ran over, screaming. She was soon followed by Mark, two fellow hikers, and a grand accompaniment of horrified expressions. "Oh no—_Oh no!_ **Mark!** He's been bitten!"

"Lord Almighty... ..."

"Look at the wound. Something's cauterizing the severed arteries from the inside out. Oh no..." She choked, one hand gripping Garfield's arm and the other one covering her quivering mouth. "Oh Jesus, no. Look, Mark! It's Green! It's-"

"Sakutia..." Mark hissed. "It has to be."

"M-Mom...D-Daddy...?" Garfield wimpered. Looking up. "I-I'm so sorry...Nnghhh... ...the monkey...the m-monkey-"

"Monkey?" One of the hikers stammered. "The only primate that could leave a bite like that in these parts is-"

"The Green Capped Mangabey..." Mark seethed. "Then there's no doubt."

"_Mark..."_ Marie cradled Garfield's blonde head of hair to her chest sas she tared at her husband, tears streaming. "We don't have much time. Two hours at best."

"I'm thinking...I-I'm thinking..." Mark hyperventilated, his eyes darting about the Earth at sixty miles per hour-

"**Mark**."

He looked over.

Her eyes pierced him desperately. "The **serum**."

"... ... ..." He nodded fervently. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

"Y-You can't be serious!" One of the hikers exclaimed. "Doctors Logan and Logan—You've spent over ten years working on that thing! There's only one working sample-"

"Shut the Hell up and get the jeep started!" Mark growled. "Marie, whatever you do, keep pressure on Gar's shoulder. The hell if I'm losing my kid to Curious George from Purgatory!" Mark whipped out a walkie-talkie and roared into the receiver: _"This is Logan to Camp. Go into the lab and grab the Sample. This is an emergency!"_

"Come on, let's hurry!" Marie shouted as she stood up with Garfield in her grasp and ran into a full sprint. The other adults joined her as Mark shouted further commands into the communicator.

Sleepy eyed and dizzy, a tear-stained Garfield looked over his mother's shoulder and squinted into the forest wall. His eyesight was hazy and fogged at best, but he could have sworn... ...or at least could have imagined... ...

...a face looking back. Fair and angular in the shadows. Two twitching ears, sharp—and a twirling motion as the shadow darted away. Indiscernible...

Save for a flash of skin... ...and on that patch of pale: _a tattoo._

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 23, 2005...Today)**

_A crescent moon with a 'v' across it._

"... ... ..." Garfield squinted his eyes at the sheet of paper in his grasp.

The symbol stood before him, standing out among the rest. It haunted him like a blemish stained against a bedroom window he may have slept beneath every night, or something engraved on the inside of his eyelids. In so few geometric lines and angles, it practically sang to him.

"I've... I've... ... ..._tap-dancing Cheney on a picnic table_—I've **seen** this before..." He murmured out loud to the walls of the Vaughan Concert Hall's lobby. From beyond the double doors to the auditorium, Madeline Kobayashi's expert cello strings could be heard playing through to the end of Bach's Sixth Suite. But most of the world drowned out as his green optics narrowed further on the crytograph suddenly developing within his perched grasp. "What's got my brain in a sharpshooter that this should be so important...?"

He blinked. The green elf glanced obligatorily at the animal shape he had so expertly matched to the birthmark a day and a half ago.

And the coordinated zoological form: _Mongoose_.

"Huh... ... ...If that don't beat all." He tilted his gaze up towards the length of the lobby, as that room metamorphosized in his mind to become the walls of a forested glade, with jungle foliage acting as a ceiling, with a strange little blonde boy's screams replacing the silence, and an unknown shadow with soft feet padding over mysteriously from some hidden spot in the world...

With smooth arms...

And a sihlouette in the bright flicker of kaleidoscope seven year old sunlight-

"Holy bovine..." Garfield blinked, and the sight of the lobby instantly returned. "Zoey. You know, don't you? You know what that was all about-?"

"_Snkkt—Cyborg! Robin here! We've got trouble!"_

"DAH!" Beast Boy nearly fell off the winding staircase. Frowning, he pocketed the sheet of images away and removed the communicator form his uniform's rear pocket. "Uhhh—Hello? Surprise Buttpage?" He was about to flick the thing on and protest when-

"_Cyborg here. What gives-?"_

"_We have an attacker! Somewhere in the building!"_

Beast Boy's heart froze. He glanced all around the lobby, heart palpating to think that he may have overlooked an obvious intrusion. But as his nostrils flared and his animal senses kicked into high gear, he realized that nothing was possibly awry—and even if it was, surely his better instincts would have been vigilant enough to have tracked it.

"Dude..." He scratched his emerald scalp, murmuring confusedly into the communicator. "...hao in the wide world of sports do you know that-?"

Robin's voice hissed back through the electronic feed: _"No time! **Cyborg**, you've got the eye! Scan all around you on multiple wavelengths!"_

"_I swear to God...if someone's trying to take out Maddie-"_

"_Snkkt—It isn't Madeline! It's-"_

Raven's voice firmly throated over the comminucation: _"Front in center!"_

Beast Boy's sharp ears pricked. "... ... ...!" He sensed it. He **smelled** it. The _foreign element_. He jumped down from his perch—_**plop!**_-and bolted over towards the double doors, kicking them open. _**WHAM!**_ He froze in place, just in time to see—with wide and twitching eyes—the bright pulsing glow of a hot projectile flying from the ceiling and towards a helpless audience member in the crowd below.

Someone who smelled just like Kensuke Kobayashi...but not for long-

"Awwwwwwwwww Costner." Beast Boy mumblingly cursed, ears deflating.

"_Dammit—NO!"_ Cyborg's form futiley leapt from the backstage-


	13. Suites part 4

_(Several Weeks Ago...)_

_An entire continent exploded beneath her. Starfire snarled and bore her fists in front of her as she soared hotly through the waves of surging dirt and rock. The Tamaranian's body plowed through the layers upon layers of ravaged chaos, emerging on the otherside in a flaming explosion of confusion and desperation._

_She hovered above the maelstrom of churning earth, as the planet boiled and crumbled beneath her like an imploding seashell. Her vision darted every which way as she looked for a sign—any sign—of the reason she first came here to begin with, when there was still a 'here' to speak of..._

_The sky billowed with ash and thunder as entire cities collapsed, becoming indiscernible heaps of soot and dust from a distance. Towers crashed into each other and houses churned into a veritable soup, all swirling and sloshing around the wicked metal arms of black Apokolipton death machines—the only things unaffected by the complete global collapse, wracked with unnatural lighting._

"_Where are you... ...?" Starfire murmured, almost sobbed. Then a scream: "Show yourself! I must find you...!"_

_There was a gentle chiming noise, hideously contrasting the hellish nightmare of collapse around her. Starfire raised an armband communicator to her lips: "Y-Yes, Arisia?"_

"_Starfire! You must get out of there! Soon the atmosphere is going to boil up and then there will be nothing-!"_

"_I will survive, Arisia!" Starfire shouted back, twirling sweatily and eyeing the ghastly disaster at every angle. "I have been through even more dire situations than this! Not even the bending fabric of the cosmos can hold me back from finding my-"_

"_I'm not afraid for **you**, Starfire!"_ _The young voice howled from the other line. "It's this transport! It's buckling! Not even my ring can keep it up in the air! We need you, Starfire!"_

"_Arisia-"_

"_These **people** need you! Please... ...I'm begging you. In the name of your goddess—whatever it takes—I'm begging you—SNSKKKKTKTT!"_

_Starfire shrieked as her ally's voice suddenly and inexplicably shorted out. "Arisia! Arisia, please respond-"_

"_**Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaugh-!"**_

_Starfire spun. She gasped. She saw **her**._

"_**HAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!"** The figure in black billowed out of a collapsing metropolis, skirted the evaporating body of a mountain, and plowed directly into the Tamaranian's body._

_**WHUD****!.!.!.!**_

_Starfire struggled and wrestled with the figure as they plowed through buildings, through mountainsides, even through a black metal stalk or two—fighting for dominance over the other as the planet collapsed directly beneath them._

"_Please!" Starfire screamed, Starfire sobbed. "You must listen to me! I am sorry for everything that has happened to you, but you must—**please**-listen to me! I do not want you to perish! Not right here! Not like this-"_

"_**RAAAUGH!"** The warrior in black fiercely uppercutted Starfire._

_The alien girl went flailing through fiery space, into the chasm of a collapsing continent—and falling victim once more to the invasionary missile of the lady in black, both fists conjoined together, sparkling-_

_**FLASSSSH!**_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 23, 2005...Today)**

Starfire blinked.

The Earth was still. A sea of faces stretched below her, looking past and beneath her. Calm. Reflective.

Safe.

They heard, as she heard, as they ingested, as she ingested, the delightfully calming, drippingly soothing bass rhythms of the immaculately presented teenager on stage, the princessly daughter of Kensuke Kobayashi, as she produced Bach's next movement in E-flat major, expertly and gracefully attacking the strings.

The Fourth Suite.

Koriand'r sat on a metallic crossbeam, positioned high in the rafters of the Vaughan Concert Hall. She was leaning on the edge of her seat, not so much because of the musical number being performed professionally beneath her, but rather because she felt moved to tip herself forwards, to squint her green eyes, to get as good a look as possible at all of these Homo sapiens who weren't so much as looking at her.

Such calm expressions, such confident personalities, bottled extravagantly in various modes of décor and dress—undaunted by the horrors of the world, the violent things that plagued that planet upon which they lived.

Koriand'r was familiar with the concept of boundless confidence, of hao one's faith in X'hal rendered a soul strong, resolute, fearless. But this was a different kind of fearlessness which she was witnessing. This was, without a doubt, a willful ignorance: the ability to take one's entire faculty for knowledge and to truncate it around the tunnel vision of willfull misdirection, focused on a singular piece of art, rather than the beating hearts of everyone and everything surrounding, along with all of the trepidation necessarily contained within.

If Terrans were so expert in allowing themselves to be mesmerized by one thing and one thing alone, then it was no wonder that they could fixate their fears on a single thing—or a single person...

Someone like...

Koriand'r took a deep breath. She raised a hand nervously to clutch a silver armband, something merely decorative, really. It clasped the circumference of her upper right arm, separating it from the rest of her exposed amber flesh.

The heartbeats of her friends echoed from the shadows. Even if she tried to ignore them, they would still be there—all four and a half of them. She paid attention to the sounds of their souls, not out of obligation—but out of a natural sensitivity, like hair pulling up at the back of a Terran's neck, she surmised. She had no choice but to feel them. Among her many talents, it was something she didn't mind having no say in.

As the sounds of the Earthling musical instrument obstructed and confused her, she remained vigilant in her lofty position, almost as if she was still in orbit of this odd planet, and as a way of soothing herself, she let the sounds of the heartbeats relax her with their familiarity.

It almost drowned out the palpableness of her memories, as the phantom of a sixth heartbeat alighted the air, and was gone again...or so she told herself.

Or so she made herself think, made herself sink...

Made herself...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(January 05, 2004)**

Koriand'r breathed, breathed, breathed, breathed...

With each inhale, her amber body ached. With each exhale, her eyes teared up. The cold metal floor shivered its way into her bone as she knelt there, wilted, her hands bound as she waited endlessly in the dark, dark hiss of perpetual darkness.

And then...with a clattering of metal contraptions somewhere beyond the echoing abyss...

A halo of light shimmered down on her.

_**Cht-Chtung!**_

Koriand'r was naked, save for a thick metal arm brace—encapsulating both of her bound arms behind her back in a painful position. She winced at the merciless bath of light washing over her exposed body. An agonized wince, and she tilted her head up—two eyes thinly burning a loathsome emerald, as she awaited what was to come next.

_Whurrrrrrrr-Cl-Clak! Vrmmmmm-Rnn-Rnn-Rnn-Rnn-Vriiiiiiiiii-CL-CLAK! Vthooooooooooooo..._

"... ... ... ... ..."

Silence. Then-

_Vrrrrrrrrrrrr-VRIIIIIIIIIIIIII!_ Two mechanical arms lowered from the dark-lit ceiling of the place.

Koriand'r hissed. She made to stand up, to swing her mighty limbs threateningly at the incoming limbs-

_Vriii-III-**CLAMP!**_ One arm clasped two shining claws around her throat.

"Snkkkt-!" She sputtered. "Jaasuul venaat'n de X'hal..." Her eyes teared-

_CL-CLAMP!_ The second arm clasped around her ankles, binding her feet. The limbs stretched vertically apart, so that Koriand'r's naked body was strung weakly between the two. Her teeth glistened as she winced from the ordeal, her temples sheen with a cold sweat as the halo of light expanded from some unseen aperture overhead.

And suddenly a half dozen series of metal limbs lowered, sparkling at the needle point. Three lowered in front of her, and three hovered at her rear. She writhed briefly in a pointless struggle, her burning green eyes twitching. The needles came together, their cold sparks conjoining in azure laser rays that bathed over her amber skin, forming a thin weave of dark material, laced with glowing circuitry and energy nodes. Koriand'r grunted and hissed and winced, trembling with a resurfaced anger and distaste at the devices covering her torso, abdomen, nether regions, lower limbs, upper limbs, and neck with the flexible material.

Only one spot was not weaved over with the mysterious garment—a cylindrical patch of skin on her right forearm, where a circular scar shone, glistening, in the cold metallic light above the operation.

Finally, the needles stopped materializing the flexicircuitry. They retreated, and as they did so, the two arms holding Starfire rotated so that she was 'hovering' horizontally in the center of the room, struggling all the more, for she knew what was next-

-several pairs of claws lowered from the ceiling and raised from the floor, threatening to sandwich her. Instead, they came baring metal plates—thin strips of alien silver—which were planted on opposite sides of her weave-covered body. Spine to navel. Elbow to forearm. Calf to knee. And as each plate was lowered, a series of metal tentacles spiraled out from the claws and fired orange plasma directly into the silver 'skin', welding them together and to **her**.

_Scrkkk! Scrkk-kkk! Scrkkkk!_

Steam hissed and bellowed out from the joining plates as Koriand'r twitched and gasped, letting out random and sporadic yelps as the welded shingles hotly hugged every curve of her struggling form. A great mist of industry and suffering lifted into the air around her, billowing at her red hair.

As the plates finally formed together, covering her from head to toe, another series of needles came down—converging oppositely around her torso, abdomen, and lower limbs. With blue sparks of energy transmutation, they wove together a shimmering violet fiber that formed a top piece, a skirt piece, and finally two long, long boots that enshrouded the metal armorwork.

Then the claws curved and repositioned themselves, so that Koriand'r was forced to 'kneel' in mid-air. Another group of limbs floated in, bearing a last set of armor bits—clamping over her shoulders, her waist, and her collar. The silver guards were then treated with welding claws—three times as hot this time—forcing steam to collect under the plates and violently exit out of the furthest corners of Koriand'r's writhing body.

"Nnnngh—Aaa-aaagh!" She yelped, teeth gritting. She seethed, her eyes clenched tightly shut.

The limbs darted away into the shadows, and then came the last piece—As Koriand'r was forced further into a low kneel—and a claw slowly, ominously lowered from the ceiling—a glistening crest in its grasp, that was planted over the Tamaranian girl's forehead. _Vrmmmm-SCRKKKT-CKK-CKK-HISSSssssssssssss_

Steam rose from her temples as the metal crest framed the girl's face. The silver glinted. Nodes on her her belt and collarpiece began glowing to vile life. Her violet cloth rippled in a static tension.

"... ... ..." Starfire's eyes opened, glaring, bloodthirsty. Waiting for the author of her manipulation to announce itself from beyond the shadowy stalks of the arms.

_**VRIII!**_

The claws stretched apart, releasing her-

"Nnngh!" She fell down, three times as heavy as when she first entered the chamber. _**C-CLANK!**_ A ripple of vaporous energy distorted the metal floor beneath her. She slowly stood up, the bindings on her arms beeping behind her back. Suddenly, with a spark, her boots clasped together and her hand bindings aimed straight down at the floor. "Nnngh...sakul'm thriel..." She grunted, struggling, as she was forced to stand upright. Blinking. Panting. Seething.

Then...

_**CRKK-CHTUNGGGG!**_

A tall, burning slit of green light. It widened and widened, filling the room with a sickly lime glow. A shadowy figure, wide and brimming with jagged limbs, marched slowly and regally in, his arms folded behind his back. A pair of leathery things accompanied him, carrying golden tridents that glowed to reflect off their glistening teeth. The room started to smell of rotting wings and backsweat.

The bound Starfire hissed: "Trogaar biul'n Gord'n..."

"... ... ..." Lord Trogaar stood before her. A wicked grin, proud yellow teeth. He paced a crescent moon around her, admiring his catch, relishing in her heplessness. "Hreshaa lesshkuu messhu lasshinsha, Koriand'r..."

The guards chuckled.

Trogaar spun and snarled at them.

They silenced.

"... ... ..." Trogaar turned back towards Starfire. He marched forward and clamped his clawed fingers under her chin, forcing her head side to side, as he closely eyed her immaculate skin. "Craass hasshaa zaashku kukssha, Troqqu..." He grinned.

"Rrrrgh-" She snarled. "Maasshass rezzakrasshka rushushku shuush rassakaashash, Gord'n!" She growled back in his language.

To that, he grinned and leaned over until his leathery face was barely five centimeters from her nose. "Rasshassa hrasshaarshu hressha shaka..." He challenged her.

She sneered. Her eyes started glowing brighter and brighter in a bubbling fire from within.

Trogaar grinned smugly, waiting...waiting...

Starfire's eyes glowed, glowed, glowed. Steam rose around her face. Green veins spread outward from her sockets as she sweated and struggled and struggled...

The two guards watched, breathless.

Glowing...glowing...glowing-Then Starfire gasped, sputtering, as the fire in her eyes fizzled out and her head hung. She panted, panted, panted.

"Hrmmmm..." Trogaar stood back, chuckling lizardly. The guards hissed in one accord.

She was still too young to meet his challenge.

"Hashass rezzashushu kushka, Troqqu. Shassharsh shu Komand'r, rashaz..."

At the sound of _that name_, Starfire's head bolted up once more. She gasped—Then snarled and struggled against the bindings. A series of heated Tamarians words flew out of her all at once.

He merely shook his head and paced around until he stood at her right side. He leered at her, a few poisonous words trickling out, and he clasped the part of her arm that wasn't covered with either circuit weaving or metal plates. The scarred amber skin shone in the green light as he produced a silver armband, emblazoned with Okaaran symbols.

"Razaasha kusasshen zenshush." He uttered with finality and brutally clamped the tailor-made device over Starfire's arm.

_**BZZZZZT-T-T-T!**_ Immediately, Starfire's entire body writhed as a fierce green energy burned in response to the device being keyed in place. A deep and augmented anger frothed to the surface, biologically enhanced, and animalisticaly ravenous.

The two guards shuddered with a brief, timid fright.

Trogaar glared at them, sighed, and raised his arm so that he could mutter into a wristband communicator. "Veshusa! Razassh shashar keshkesshez rasshan Cit'del!"

"_Snkkt-Hreshara, Trogaar!"_

**Blip**.

Trogaar turned about and chirped towards the air, his headcresting reptilian webs vibrating authoritatively. Four more guards marched in, converged on Starfire, and pinned their tridents to her bindings from opposite angles. A humming sound, and her bindings levitated her writhing, hysterical body up in the center of their administrations, allowing them to cart her off down a cold metal hallway, being revealed by an opening aperture doorway.

Trogaar was watching the living cargo's transportation to her prison cell, when a messenger ran up on scaled legs and knelt before him. "Trogaar! Razushaz hreshusha kekeshush shu zaashen zish Apok'lips, kazzshu!"

Trogaar spun and glanced at him incredulously. "Zish Apok'lips? Zaaka thresh?"

The messenger nodded. "Kez shaka sushu zekshan Sol. Zakaarsha zshi rekshush."

"Sol...?" Trogaar blinked, his slimey eyes narrowing. "Zaka sharsh shu zrak Kryp'tonuu, shri?"

"Shri, Trogaar."

"Hrmmm... ... ..." Trogaar peered off in thought. He took a few strong breaths, then motioned to the messenger and the fellow guards as he marched out of the large black room and into an adjacent hallway. He barked at the messenger, who obediently ran up to the nearest computer console, typed a few strokes with his clawed digits, and produced a holographic cosmic chart. The reticule of the projected image zeroed in on a yellow sun, and the third planet in its orbit, a blue planet—upon which a beacon was very visibly pulsating, broadcasting a series of Apokolipton imperatives.

Trogaar glared more deeply.

The beacon was located on the northwestern edge of a thick continent. A topographical database indicated a wide plain beneath forested mountains...and beneath it a cavernous expanse filled with an artificial structure of sorts...

_Spherical_...

"Hashaz..." Trogaar's lips parted. "Sushzu rezzarkash shushu Dark'seid..."

"Hrasshashen, Trogaar?" The messenger inquired. The guards around the hologram began to tremble with uncertainty.

Trogaar growled at them. A breath, and then he grinned. He gave the command to set course. The messenger responded obediently, and flew down the hallway towards the nearest lift.

Soon the entire ship was turning, swerving, lurching—as the stars bled in a spiral past the portholes, and the holographic image of the blue planet enlarged.

Becoming crystal clear.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Four Months Ago)**

Koriand'r's green eyes fluttered open. She raised a hand up to her forehead and pushed aside a fountain of waving red hair in the warm wind.

Before her stretched a horizon of soft vanilla and orange hues—The setting sun over a humble planet—one of many—where a series of porcelain spires stretched sporadically above a sea of shanty towns and multicultural hovels, stretching far and wide until a green sea of vegetation and algae hugged the extreme edges and formed a gritty vista.

She wore a long, pink gown—woven out of Xonan silk—as she leaned against the edge of an alabaster balcony, staring out towards the waning sky—a violet gas giant and two ivory moons floating hazily overhead, engulfing the cosmos.

Behind her, a rented living quarters fit for a queen loomed—with a patch of Okaaran battle armor tossed dirtily over what would otherwise have been a pristine bed of milky white velvet, beset with veils and translucent pink netting.

It was not a bed that Koriand'r had expected to sleep in. Nor did she expect to bathe in the luxurious basin two compartments down. She didn't even relish the thought of dinner under the glass veranda just a flight of steps away.

For as soon as she arrived on this planet—she heard the wireless chatter on many a portable communicator device—and she knew, in as many different languages that she had the lips to decipher...

That they had found her. They had trailed her here. And that there was no escape swift enough, expert enough—with her meager resources—to escape the gravity pull of the gas giant and make it past their sweeping sensors alive.

So she had to wait. And as she did so, she decided to do it in style. As if her blood carried the royal salt deserving these quarters.

As if...

"Hmmm..." She hugged herself as the warm winds kicked at her hair and gown. "... ...X'hal biniul melan'm liniaat, Komand'r..." She murmured to the air. Her fingers clutched the scarred patch of skin under her right sleeve. Koriand'r's eyes fluttered shut, growing moist as she again murmured: "Komy... ... ...halaat siul Komyyy..."

Thunder.

She remained still.

Pounding thunder...

She didn't move.

Rolling, rattling thunder-

Then:

_**P-POW!**_

The door to her quarters busted open. A mangy pack of Gordanian mercenaries clamored in, wielding golden tridents. A Xonan innkeeper flailed, limped towards them, and desperately tugged at the ringleader's arm. The reptile merely snarled and tossed the noodle-limbed proprietor to the floor before aiming a hot, humming trident Koriand'r's way.

"Hraakshu, Troquu! Masha rashku hresshukush!"

Koriand'r slowly, liquidly turned around. Several golden dots hovered over her body in groups of three, zeroing in on her chest and forehead. Her thin green eyes looked boredly at the headhunters as she lowered her arms and murmured something back at them.

Half of the Gordanians sneered. The other half twitched with uncertainty, glancing all around at the lush corners of the room. Seeking answers.

Finally, the ringleader barked once more: "Hresha! Troquu! Zaksha razzashashen kuska hreshu Trogaar! Zazshu!"

"Mmmm ... ... ...Trogaar?" Koriand'r lazily ran a hand through her hair, flicked her head, and produced from her bangs a tiny purple remote. "Gram'n halasaat niul leatta kiel de X'hal." And her fingers squeezed onto the trigger.

_Click._

_Vriiiiii!_

A high pitched hum filled the room. The lizard men peered all around, shifting nervously.

_**Vriiiiiiiiii!**_

They looked, spun, twirled—then gasped.

The Okaaran battle armor on the bed was glowing a hot violet.

_**VRIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!**_

Koriand'r smiled devilishly and spat out: "M'beraat niul X'hal, Gord'n."

_**KAPOWWWW!**_

The armor exploded, engulfing the shrieking reptilians in violet flame. Chunks of alabaster and porcelain flew everywhere in a sea of royal shrapnel.

Koriand'r had already leapt up and was hovering away from the room—just as the balcony cracked in a thousand places, crumbled, and fell down the length of the giant ruby tower where she had stayed overnight.

_**ZAP!**_

_**Z-ZAP!**_

Koriand'r blindly dodged a pair of trident blasts. Gown flapping in the wind, she peered over her shoulder and glared up at a hovering Gordanian spacecraft. And above it—looming-was the hulking body of Lord Trogaar's mothership...jagged and green against the settling soft milk of the alien world's sky. A booming siren warbled out from the mothership as the smaller spacecraft's aft doors opened, and a dozen lizard men on hoverpacks sliced their way down towards the alien girl.

"Rrrrrrgh-!" Her eyes glowed hotly. Two wrists burned through the pink sleeves of her gown and shimmered with raging starbolts. "Gord'n! **Halasiut lyn'dr flaata de X'hal**!"

The first of many soldiers was upon her, trident gleaming. "HRESHAA!" He swung-

Koriand'r ducked.

He swung again-

_**SNATCH!**_ She grabbed it with one hand and fired her opposite wrist point blanc in his chest. A fountain of green blood splattered over her as his body limply sailed towards the shantytowns below. She twirled the golden trident in her grasp, charged it with starbolt energy, and flung it straight at the hovering swarm. "RAAUGH!"

_**Z-Z-Z-ZAP!**_ They fired rapidly down at her, dodging the launched trident. But behind their backs, the golden weapon boiled in a flux between emerald and platinum, before finally overloading—**_POWWWWW!_** The explosion sent them flailing through the air.

"RNNNNG!" Koriand'r soared in the midst of them, spinning, slamming her fists and feet against every body she could come into contact with, sending them sailing into ruby spires, smashing alien structures to dust.

The air was filling with a chaos of collapse. The spacecraft hovered lower, a bright gold turrent sliding into place along the green hull and taking aim at her. _Vriiiiii-**KAPOW!**_

Koriand'r gasped. She raised two hands up, criss crossing over her face. _**F-FLASSH!**_ She mightily deflected the cannon fire. But another volley surged past her, billowing into the impoverished buildings below and setting them ablaze with a mighty explosion. **_KRAKOW!_**

Koriand'r gasped at the destruction...then sneered. Her eyes burned a streaming emerald as she 'kicked' at the air and flew up, up, up into oncoming cannonfire, batting the burning volleys away, and finally sailing her amber form straight into the belly of the spacecraft. _**CRUNCH!**_ The hovering Gordanian pursuit craft lurched and bobbed in midair, a series of violent green energy bursts billowing from within. And then-

_**POWWW!**_ Koriand'r broke out of the top of the metal thing, a Gordanian pilot dangling in her gasp. He panicked and sputtered—before being tossed mercilessly into high altitude, falling screamingly towards the urbanity below. The Tamaranian warrioress spun and gripped the spacecraft-

_**ZAAAP! Z-ZAP!**_

Two burning volleys surged past her.

She snarled and looked up.

Two more spacecraft were sailing down from Trogaar's mothership, their cannons charged as they dove at a violent velocity. _**Z-Z-ZAAAP!**_

"Rrggh-" Koriand'r gripped the ruptured spacecraft in her gasp, spun twice, four times, eight times—And flung the hulking thing violently at the incoming vehicles. _**"HAAAAUGH!"**_

The first of two Gordanian ships met its sibling at full force. _**KABOOOOM!**_ The thing exploded in a froth of shrapnel and plasma. The second ship billowed through the burning mess and fired its cannons straight into the Tamaranian's torso. **_Z-ZAP!_**

Koriand'r desperately blocked at the last second, deflecting the blasts, but barely having a grasping chance to-

_**W-WHUDD!**_ The spacecraft plowed into her, shoving her twitching body down, down, down-

"Nnnnngh—_**HAAAAAUGH!"**_ She shrieked and clamped her fingers into the hull of the craft. Cracks formed in its green surface as she glowed hotly from within, summoned the bulk of her powers, and steered the thing down...down...

...and into a half-built spire on the edge of the shantytowns. Alien construction workers hovered and bounded away as quickly as their jetpacks and tentacles could carry them-

_**POWWWWW!**_ The spire imploded from the Gordanian spacecraft's violent impact. The entire body of the tower collapsed downwards, billowing ruby red dust everywhere. A cacophony of screams and sirens filled the surrounding hovels and alleyways as aliens scrambled everywhich way.

Then...out of the mayhem-

_**FWOOOOSH!**_ Koriand'r soared, hotly parting the mist and dust like a burning ember through melting butter. Half a dozen thickly armored Gordanians were pursuing her on jetpacks.

The Tamaranian girl seethed, sweated, twirled and darted every which way as she soared down every street, alleyway, and marketplace corridor that made itself open to her. Her eyes burning, her gown in tatters, she desperately outflew the wave of dust and the angry Gordanians sailing along the event horizon of the battle, their golden tridents firing constantly.

_**Z-Z-Z-ZAP! ZAP! Z-ZAP!**_

She dodged, spun, and flew backwards past a sea of scampering and fleeing natives, firing a volley of starbolts back at the pursuing lizard men. _**FL-FL-FLASH!**_

A bolt or two made contact with one Gordanian, so that his jetpack sparkled uselessly and sent him veering sideways into one of his cohorts—sending the two of them screaming their way into an alien bar, smashing the front entrance wide.

The other four closed the distance, firing madly at Starfire.

The girl ducked under a bridge, skirted over the metal shingles of impoverished residential areas, and blocked the various trident blasts with her forearms. She snarled, glanced ahead, and reached an arm out in time to grab the stalk of a metal transmitter from a brick building. _CLUTCH!_ She kicked off the balcony of a two story structure, flipped in mid-air, and flung the metal spear downwards. "HAAUGH!"

Three of the Gordanians dodged, but one flew one centimeter too slowly and—_**SCHTUNK!**_-the metal cylinder pierced his jetpack, so that he spiraled out of control—screaming hissedly—into a local cesspool, exploding deeply from within the goop. **_KA-POW!_**

_**Z-Z-ZAP!**_ The last three closed in, their tridents burning hotly through the blurred air.

Koriand'r spun, dodged, and gasped up ahead at two tall pillars of metal, supporting a huge landing pad. She clenched her fists, burningly accelerated her flight speed with a burst of emerald flame, and flew straight through the arching pillars. A deep breath, and she darted directly up, twirled over the landing pad and above scurrying workers' heads, then came back down at the end of her loopty-loop, descending onto the backsides of the Gordanians who were still pursuing her underneath-

"RRRGHH-" She grasped two of them by their jetpacks and slammed their skulls together. _**WHAM!**_ She tossed them uselessly aside, so that they slammed into the opposite support pillars of the huge landing pad.

She spun to fire a starbolt at-

"HRESSHA!" The last Gordanian pounced on her.

"NNNGH!" She gripped at the trident being poked at her neck, struggling with him.

He leered and drooled at her in midair. "Resshushka hazzar, Troquu-"

"RAAAA-**AAAAGH**!" She snarled into his gasping face and and yanked at the trident. The two of them veered violently sideways in their flight and smashed through the side of a building—_**POW!**_-and through a family's house, sending dozens of aliens scampering—**_POW!_**-through a market selling alien foods—_**POW!**_-through another house—**_POW!_**-another building—_**POW!-POW!-POW!**_

Metal debris, mortar, and various clouds of shrapnel scattered on either side of the two's cannonballing bodies as they plowed their way through the heart of a shantytown, finally breaking through a rusted wall and into a clearing—a dirt street between neighborhoods.

_**WHUD!**_ Koriand'r's back struck the ground as the Gordanian bloodily pressed down on her. "Hasshaaah!" He screamed, snapped the trident in two, and flung its jagged stalk down into the nape of Koriand'r's neck-

_CHUNK!_ The girl yanked her head to the side just in the nick of time. The trident stalk stuck into the soil. "NNNGH!" She kicked her feet up.

_WHUMP!_ The Gordanian's body ragdolled off her and flailed in midair-

"HCKK!" Koriand'r kicked to her feet, knocked the trident stalk up into the air with her foot, snatched the thing in a burning green grip, spun, and flung the thing violently towards him. "HAAAUGH-"

_**SWISSSSSSSH-SLUNK!**_The spear-like object skewered the airborn Gordanian's shoulder and pinned him to an electrical conduit on the corner of several houses. "Hckk—Hreshaaaa..." He sputtered and reached achingly towards his belt for an incendiary grenade-

"GRRGHH!" Koriand'r flung both hands towards him, a double starbolt soaring-

_**KAPOW!**_ The energy blast struck dead center into the electrical conduit behind the pinned Gordanian's body and-

_**BOOOM!**_ The thing exploded violently, reducing the lizard man's body to a steaming mist.

Koriand'r blocked her face with two forearms as her body anchored itself against the concussion blast and tongues of flame. She lowered her arms and stood, panting, her tattered gown splotched with scorch marks and green blood.

_**VRMMMMMMM!**_

She gasped, her eyes twitching as she stared up, up, up.

The Gordanian Mothership was lowering overhead, coming menacingly close to the rusted metal rooftops of the shantytowns, its vibrating immensity threatening to shake the shingles off their foundations. Families and locals cowered in fear under every possible shadow as a dozen Gordanian spacecraft came barreling down, forming a circle around the lone Tamaranian fugitive in the middle of the dirt street.

"... ... ...X'hal..." She stammered.

Footsteps.

She glared down the street. Her teeth clenched.

Scales glistening, finned crests twitching, Lord Trogaar himself marched down the street with a legion of Gordanian soldiers flanking him on every side. Even from over one hundred meters, he was staring at his target...his soon-to-be prize...

And he was grinning.

Koriand'r frowned. She hovered a meter above the ground and began charging her starbolts—when something made her her gasp and hang limply in place.

As Trogaar marched past each successive block of impoverished residences, his scaley men were dashing into the nearest buildings, struggling with the people within, and marching back towards their Captain's side with men, women, children—entire families in tow. Aliens of all skin colors and textures were being rounded up and piled into the street—trembling and sobbing in horror—as the Gordanians converged on them, converged on her—surrounding and engulfing. The spacecrafts hovered down, looming thunderously above the houses, forcing quite a few pathetic lean-ins to crumple over from their violent proximity. And above this halo of nightmare, the mothership loomed, its cylindrical inner core billowing brightly—the central energy cannon aimed at the heart of the entire city, glowing.

"... ... ..." Koriand'r gazed helplessly at Lord Trogaar.

Trogaar gazed back. A smirk. He paced around the girl from afar, glazed eyes squinting slightly. Suddenly—with undaunted speed—he marched over towards a cluster of trembling aliens, hugging each other, pulled the tallest out of the gasping and clamoring group of youngsters, and pulled a green gun out of his holster—immediately putting it to the shrieking man's head.

Starfire twitched. "Halasaat-"

_**P-POW!**_ The father's brain matter was plastered all over his screaming children's faces.

"ZALAA DRAAT!" Koriand'r howled, sobbed. "Ham'n sakul niel vassu, Trogaar, de X'hal..." She pleaded, tears streaming immediately. She slumped to her knees and clutched at her hair. "Nnnngh..."

Trogaar glanced over at her, still holding the smoking particle discharger. "Haashuzuk rasshak, Troquu?"

"Mmmmm...Mmmnnnghh..." Koriand'r stared up through brimming tears, at the horrified faces of the trembling youngsters, at all of the helpless natives. "Nnngh...Hashazka..." She replied in Trogaar's tongue, surrendering. "Rasshaken zukush shek." Her limbs hung limply at her side as she bowed before the all encompassing legion.

"Hmph..." Trogaar smirked. He glanced over his shoulder and hissed: "Halasshka rakzhul Tam'ranuu!"

Several guards marched over, their tridents aimed steadily at Koriand'r. Their approach slow and uncertain.

"... ... ..." She made no move against them. She didn't even think of such.

They circled her viciously. Hissing commands at one another, they closed in. Four guards marched in with Okaaran arm bindings. It took every single one of them to accomplish the task of lifting the device up and over Koriand'r's arms, clamping it over her lethal hands, rendering her helpless.

"... ... ..." Tears streamed down her face as she stared down at the dirt, weighted by the bindings for the first time in nearly a year. "...hem'nar siul, Komy..." She sniffed.

Trogaar barked out.

She looked up—being hoisted to her feet by mangy lizard men.

Trogaar smirked. He motioned towards the spacecraft. They lowered over Koriand'r, magnetically attaching several tentacles to her bindings. But just as she was being lifted off, the Gordanian captain sneered and motioned towards his soldiers...who promptly encircled the cluster of helpless citizens just as Trogaar marched away unsympathetically.

Koriand'r's lips parted. "Malakiet...jon'r..."

The Gordanians cocked their weapons.

Koriand'r started: "X'hal-"

The Gordanians aimed.

Somewhere, Trogaar chuckled—And then the cacophony began, within a crossfire of golden limb-severing trident bursts—as the dirt road turned to mud with bubbling blood...

As Koriand'r's wailing voice attempted to drown it out, in vain, all the way up into the belly of the Mothership, and away from the images burned into her green retinae.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Nine Months Ago)**

Starfire's teeth glistened against the vacuum of space. She spiraled mutely around the bodies of several cargo ships in a line as she burned her way past carvan after caravan, soaring her way towards a pulsating disc at the end of a bustling spaceport.

Bright streams of emerald flame soared past her.

Her twitching eyes darted back.

From behind, a triad of mercenary spacecraft were in hot pursuit, their thruster coils gleaming as the mounted cannons blasted and blasted at her fleeing form across the noiseless death of space.

Starfire darted up and down, barely avoiding the blasts that careened into the bubbling hulls of various freight ships. She arched to the right, spiraled through the metal webbings of a space station's support strut, and flew under the shadowy lattice as she dared the mercenary crafts to pursue.

They skimmed the flank of the space station, sticking to triangular formation. One of them fired a missile that zig-zagged through the metal webbings and ate its way towards Starfire's heels. As it swam down the hollow of the lattice, the missile split open and three spherical androids flew free on tiny burning thrusters and soared hotly after Koriand'r, each of them strobing with a crimson brightness.

Starfire gasped as the red pulses reflected off her Okaaran battle armor. She immediately dashed out from under the protective struts of the space station and back into the lane of space traffic. The mercenary ships fired once more at her, but they were the least of her concerns as the spheres nao angled closer and closer to her burning green limbs.

She glanced ahead once more, face clenched in the tense effort of super speed.

The disc was closer, the vortex within its center warbling, welcoming—an exit.

She bolted towards it, her hands forming fists at her sides. Space dust and debris pelted her skin as she navigated past the booster rockets of several mammoth cargo ships angling down the caravan path towards the disc.

The vacuum of space heated up as the spheres thrusted closer and closer in their pursuit of the Tamaranian fugitive.

Starfire's green eyes darted every which way—And then she spotted a solution: a satellite dish along the aft side of an unsuspecting freight ship. She soared straight towards it, body straining with the effort of further acceleration—until she made contact. Her boots slapped against the metal surface. Desperately, she 'ran' along the side of the ship's hull, the spheres at her heels—and she leapt and leapfrogged over the satellite dish, expertly shoving the thing from her weight so that it pivoted to ensnare the spheres like a glove-

The satellite dish exploded violently, sending bits of shrapnel shimmering outward from the lurching freight ship's hull as the careening vessel rotated off-kilter and knocked two of the pursuing mercenary crafts into a local space station so that they grinded to a sparkling halt in the glow of the spheres' explosion.

The last mercenary craft billowed out from the blast wave and fired a dozen energy discharges at Starfire in a desperate attempt to end the last leg of her flight.

She struggled to hold her breath and spun like a top—the entire procession of spacecraft twirling to her vision—with the disc ahead, billowing and welcoming. A pair of robot sentries flew from the event horizon and fired electrical blasts at her.

She gritted her teeth and fired one, two, three starbolts ahead—Shattering the defensive androids to dust. One lingered—flaming frothily in space—and she clutched it as she soared the last blinking lengths towards the violet vortex bubbling in the center of the disc. A mute scream, and she flung the sparkling automaton into one of the energy matrix nodes keeping the jumpgate in tact. The resulting explosion caused the portal in the center of the disc to rupture...to short out-

-but not before she tactfully flew through the synthetic rift in space, like a thread surging through the eye of a needle.

_**FW-FW-FW-FWOOOSH!**_ Her ears practically bled from the brief atmosphere of gaseous particles thundering all around her. The Tamaranian's entire body warbled and shook from the energy displacement as her molecules were shot down the tunnel of hyperspace. Squinting, she managed to glance back and see the portal closing around a billowing explosion—what was left of the last mercenary craft as its pilot stupidly attempted to pursue her through the closing vortex.

Starfire looked straight ahead—her entire body vibrating. Every jolt within her ached and screamed as an unnatural tension overcame her. She shrieked mutely and clutched herself as she felt a great numbness overcoming all senses. The color drowned out from her vision as the interior of the hyperspace tunnel turned to mere pinpricks of half discernible shades. She fought with the strength of X'hal to spot an exit, an avenue of escape-

-and she found it, with the last blink afforded to her, as her physical construct was just on the verge of breaking apart into atomic madness, unprotected as her body was against the warped fabric accelerating her forward, and-

_**P-P-POW!**_

She was flung once more into the mute vacuum of space, several stary systems away, dreadfully and delightfully cold—as she was vomited out of a warpgate and into the orbit of a gas giant. She flung like a ragdoll at several million miles per kilometer until she soared helplessly into the frozen ring of the nearest planet—plowing her viciously through thousands upon thousands of icy chunks of debris. And then that ice melted in a blink as she tilted her wretching face up to see a green moon looming beneath her, complete with an atmosphere—through which she was presently catching flame-

_**PHOOOOOOMB!**_

Protected only by her Okaaran armor and the counteracting green flame being summoned from within, Koriand'r suicidally plummeted through the stratosphere of the moon, roared through billowing clouds of pink—and slammed straight into a southern continent—forming a three mile wide crater.

_**KA-POWWWWWWWW****!.!.!.!.!.!**_

Dust, vegetation, and ash flew for kilometers upon kilometers through the air—and in the epicenter of the molten crater, a twitching redheaded girl lie in a fetal position—her fingers clutching steaming earth. A shaking of the shoulders, and she pivoted until she was seated on her knees in the navel of destruction. Cold mist billowed from her nostrils as she exhaled the fringes of space vacuum, a single breath that she had held for eleven days solid.

A lurch of the shoulders, and—without a second thought over the potential danger of doing so untested—she opened her mouth wide and inhaled the air—whatever air—that this wounded planet held for her. Inhaled...inhaled...inhaled...

And then, tears streaming, she let loose the scream she had bottled up for an eternity of fugitive flight.

"_**HAAAAA-AAAAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAAAAAUGHHHH!"**_

Her back arched, her body steamed, and her limbs stretched under the plates of shimmering Okaaran armor.

And then...she was done.

_Fw-Fwoomp!_ She fell forward on trembling limbs, panting, panting, panting...

Green tears fell onto the ashen surface of the crater as she slumped down and fingered handfuls of displaced soil.

Murmuring: "Komy... ..." Hiccuping. "K-Kommmmyyyy... ... ...Halasiel n'mraat fuld'n siul X'hal, Komy..."

Quietly, alone on a deserted alien moon, always lone...

Starfire cried.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(One Year Ago)**

"... ... ... ..." Komand'r hovered on the edge of a purple star's corona. Her dark eyes shut, her black hair tossed in the solar winds, her legs together and her arms to the side... ... ...she floated gracefully, but ominously, closer and closer towards the heart of the huge celestial object, burning towards her...ravenous...

The star burned emotionlessly beneath her, its incandescent tongues of solar flares reaching out at random, swathing through billions upon billions of naked kilometers and burning every microparticle within.

But Komand'r paid no heed. Her face was releasing an endless, breathless grimace as she tilted her neck back and drifted...drifted...drifted...

Into the heart of the dark violet flame.

One by one... ...square centimeter by square centimeter... ... ...the silver plates of Okaaran armor started to bubble and hiss over her limbs. Her sleeves and skirt and toppiece began to singe. Slowly but steadily, the entire body's worth of armor turned red hot and sizzled as if to melt away into glorious oblivion...

And Komand'r cared little if she would melt away with it-

_**GRIP!**_

Blackfire's purple eyes flew open in a snarling gasp as she was yanked back from the event horizon of burning and into the concerned face of her younger sister.

Koriand'r stared incredulously at her, murmuring mute words against the vacuum of space, clutching the girl's still-roasting sleeve desperately.

Komand'r glanced at her hand, growled, and batted her sister away. She roared mutely and made a 'go-away' gesture—But was plowed over by the trembling figure of Koriand'r hugging her waist. Komy rolled her eyes and clutched a handful of Kory's hair, gazing sidelong into the burning sphere of salvation that swam beneath the corona alongside them.

Kory hugged Blackfire deeply, her tears turning crystalline into zero gravity before floating into a burning, hissing freefall as the star ate them up. She tilted her head up and stared with brimming eyes into Komy. Her lips moved, liquidly mouthing an age old phrase that neither of them could hear but would be damned to not recognize.

"... ... ..." Komand'r stared boredly back, a gaze full of bitterness and remorse, washed away only with months upon months of stockpiled apathy—the sickly residue of a trained warrior reduced to a shadow of a star, made real only by a foolish sibling's dedication.

Koriand'r's hands cupped around her sister's. She smiled bravefully, howbeit painfully, into Blackfire's gaze, as if braving the glare of a million suns. She motioned with her head towards the fringes of the solar system within which they levitated, marking out the sight of a grand nebula that marked a barrier to that sector in space—and a path towards freedom in the latest leg of their joined flight.

"... ... ..." Komand'r slowly closed her eyes. A few heartbeats, and she reopened her gaze—sleepily-helpless to protest Kory's insistence.

Starfire smiled in the brief victory of the situation. Her crimson hair halo'd a joyful face as she clutched Komand'r's hand, cupped it against her warm cheek, and murmured a few more pantomimed words into the vacuum, before turning about and floating towards the nebula with her sister in tow...

...but Blackfire didn't budge

"... ... ...?" Koriand'r stared back, blinking. She shuddered to see Blackfire hovering in place, immoveable. But more than that, there was a flame building up in her eyes. Not a flame of hope, but one of anger... ...and seething fury, and it was pointing upwards. "... ... ..." Koriand'r too tilted her head in the same direction, and she mutely gasped.

A Citadelian battleship had just jumped out of hyperspace, flanked by two Gordanian slave ships. Braving the frothing waves of heat from the indigo star, they narrowed the distance between their glistening hulls and the two floating fugitives.

Koriand'r murmured horrified nothings and tugged and tugged and tugged at her sister's arm. Pleading with her, clawing and yanking at her—but knowing what was coming next, knowing what she had been desperately trying all of these years to prevent—but helpless to stop nao, so damnably nao, for her sister was stronger, her sister was angrier...

And her sister was right.

"... ... ...!.!.!.!" With a mute roar, Blackfire's eyes shimmered a pulsating violet and she rocketed upwards past Starfire's gasping form. She made like a missile towards the hull of the Citadelian ship, only to be pinpointedly struck by the coverging coverfire of both flanking Gordanian crafts.

Koriand'r's eyes twitched-

Blackfire sneered, snarled, and fought against the steady streams of criss crossing green plasma. She crossed her arms, tensed her upper body, and uncrossed them—sending the beams finally bouncing back and ricocheting off the hull of the huge armada. With a sucked-up scream, she throttled herself through a sea of miniature heat-seaking rockets and bulleted her way towards the belly of the Citadelian mothership.

Koriand'r gritted her teeth, summoned a pulse of warbling green energy, and accelterated after her in an emerald flash.

Komy was skimming the surface of the Citadel's flagship, slamming her fists repeatedly into the hull and forming dented rivulets of metal that swallowed the brunt of the pursuing mini-rockets. A swath of tiny explosions trailed Komand'r's path of destruction as she flitted her way around the body of the craft and made its way toward the translucent windows of the ship's command deck.

One of the two Gordanian craft came around the far side of the huge vessel and aimed its plasma cannons at her.

Komand'r sneered and widened her aged eyes. A mature frothing of purple emanated from beneath her skin, and her irises dilated just as a violet glow pulsed outward and fired a murderous stream straight into the body of the Gordanian vessel. The thing literally sliced in half from the expert optic beam, its passengers and soldiers helplessly spilling out into the flesh-freezing chill of vacuum.

A bright glow.

Komand'r looked behind her to see the second Gordanian craft in close pursuit. She hadn't enough energy to launch a second optic volley-

But the Gordanian ship exploded from within, tilting, bobbing-Before a hole was punched outward from the front as Starfire finished flying her missile of a body straight through the thing. She clutched herself frightfully as the assault craft exploded violently behind her, and she 'swam' desperately through the vaporous flame to catch up with her sister, her trembling lips desperately mouthing her name-

But Blackfire turned her face from her. Fuming, she finished her orbit of the Citadelian mothership and came to its command deck, staring face to face with her reflection against the windows of the bridge. Inside, several tall aliens with yellow carapaces saw the incoming Tamarnian and fled from the sight in horror.

Blackfire grinned for the first time in several years. She brought both hands together, summoned a huge purple starbolt, and unleashed it with a silent scream into the face of the lurching mothership. The window imploded—the metal buckling in, and then the vacuum sucked everything out.. ...atmosphere, glass shards, computer consoles, and finally the twitching limbs of several hapless Citadelians.

Komand'r hovered in the mess of her charge, seething, seething, seething-

When her shoulders were suddenly clutched.

She spun with a snarl, fist swinging.

Koriand'r grabbed the arm and clutched tightly to her sister, desperately calling out her name against the mute nightmare of the battle. She froze at the sight of the violet eyes staring back at her, the anger built upon by tense months of flight and years upon years of love and resentment, boiled into one bursting bubble of instaneous emotion. Komand'r didn't waste a second. She shoved her sister back and raised a hot, burning fist.

Koriand'r hovered vulnerably before her, both hands clasped together, pleading, sobbing-

_**BOOOM!**_

"... ... ..." Komand'r didn't strike the fist down. For a hot glow had encompassed the two. Both of them looked up to see that a fourth ship had just dropped out of a warbling silverish vortex which had broken the impenetrable silence of the vacuum, sparkling with the heated aura of its massive engines. It was a type of spacecraft neither had seen before—definitely a battleship, judging from its dozens upon dozens of plasma cannons. Its hull was potmarked with glowing spheres, and its arrival came on the screaming voices of billions upon billions of shattered souls. Hao the two sisters both knew this, they could not guess—but it numbed them, paralized them, to witness...

_**VREEEEEEEEE!**_ The entire bow of the ship started to glow a bright, bright crimson—and both Tamaranian warrioresses soon realize that they were staring directly into a gigantic cannon, bigger than any weapon either of them had ever faced before.

Koriand'r murmured something, her eyes locked onto the vortex, her petrified soul caught in the vicious grip by spouting flames beyond-

But Komand'r's eyes were on the cannon. She blinked at it, took one glance at her sister, and in a spitting hiss—of both adoration and hate—she yanked her sibling by the arm, spun once, twice—then flung her like a slingshot towards the nearby star.

Koriand'r gasped, spun, flailed-and stared with twitching eyes towards Komy.

Blackfire hovered, spun about, and charged into the crimson cannon-

_**PHOOOOO-OOOOO-OOOOOOM!**_

-any visible speck that comprised of Komand'r was instantly swallowed up by the red swath of hellfire. And the very second that the energy beam dissipated, she was nowhere to be seen.

Koriand'r's scream carried her—along with the momentum of Komand'r's swing—away from the tragedy, away from the ship, skirting the orbital sphere of the purple star—until she was flung like the comet she was into the next three solar systems.

Halfway along the flight, Koriand'r finally managed to stop shedding tears into open space. She had to. It was the only way she could mask her trail.

A trail that was nao only hers and hers alone.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(One and a Half Years Ago)**

For months...

Months upon months of skirting solar systems, traversing the forbidden edges of Alpha Centauri, navigating the seediest locales in the Orion Belt, Koriand'r and Komand'r had come to a stopping point.

They would rather had been anyplace else.

The two nestled in an underground sewer, their lower halves bathed in an oozing current of several dozens of species' worth of waste. They huddled beneath a series of grates while in the streets of the pirate colony above a company of Gordanian soldiers were rampaging through the alleys, shooting anyone who protested them, and upturning every bit of equipment or furniture in sight as they hunted the corners of the place for a sign of the two Tamaranian girls.

Koriand'r had lost it. She trembled and murmured tiny sobs into her sister's shoulder, while the whole time Komand'r held her close, stroking the small of her back, gazing up through the grating as green shadows shifted and lurched—on the hunt.

"... ... ..." Blackfire glared, holding her sister close. Without looking, her hands wandered up and clutched a fingerful of Starfire's crimson hair. A few centimeters deeper, and Komy could have felt Kory's skin...and subsequently could have wrung her neck... ... ...could have ended her right then and there...

But she didn't.

A long, heated exhale, and Komand'r held the hapless, sobbing Koriand'r close. Silencing her with their closeness, waiting for the stench and horror and cold sweating intensity of this moment to end...

So that another bounding flight of held breaths could take them both to another...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(One and Three Quarters Years Ago)**

"AAAAAAAAAAA!" A Thanagarian warrior screamed bloodily as his helmet was torn off and—_**CHTUNKKKKK!**_ His skull exploded from a violet starbolt aimed directly into his face.

"... ...Haft'r niulum brutt..." Komand'r sneered, dropped the winged corpse in midflight, and shouted over her shoulder. "Koriand'r! Ha'saaliut mindelen viul Than'gar settu!"

She motioned with a silver-plaited hand and barreled down towards the world below. A wretching Koriand'r and a formation of jetpacking Gordanians followed Komand'r's lead, and the two dove, dove, dove down towards the brown body of the planet, its horizon splotched with laser fire and flame as two surging bodies of forces met in the center of a great, thunderous valley... ... ...an army of Thanagarians and an army of Gordanians locked in an epic battle, towards the heart of which the two enslaved warriors were rocketing.

Expertly, the two girls led their charge past flinging bursts of surging artillery pulses, crash-landing Gordanian aircraft, and shredded Thanagarian bodies from flak overhead. Catastrophic plasma explosions lit up on either side of them, swallowing the screaming bodies of a few Gordanian soldiers and forcing Koriand'r to shriek helplessly.

"Rashaskka hazaarakukshu sashrashaka!" Komand'r shouted in Gordanian. She pointed towards a cluster of infantry below. "Rekushaka ekshuk shrikash!" On her command, a squadron of Gordanians broke formation, armed their tridents—_CHIIING!_-and plummeted towards the patch of helpless Thanagarian warriors below, ripping them to shreds.

Koriand'r swallowed something down, trembled to look towards the battle ahead—and flinched as a patch of earth and blood was blown skyward into her flying form from a plasma burst below.

"Kory!" Blackfire hissed. "Malasiulut niel reman'n lisiul Than'gar threatta!" She motioned towards a patch of earth between the Thanagarian infantry and their artillery cannons. "Bendassun chlor'plachien!"

"D-Drite Drite, Komand'r..." Starfire trembled. Her eyes started to glow a hot green.

Blackfire stared forward, accelerated her body, and pulsed bright purple bolts of death in each wrist. "Nnnnnnnnnnggggh-"

The fight came closer, closer, the entire planet rumbling and screaming beneath them as they surged downward, vaporously splitting the air around them as they briefly accelerated past the speed of sound-

_**POWW!**_

-Blackfire's scream was catching up to her as she came upon the end of her dive-_**"NNNNNGH!"**_-both fists held together in a pulsating glow.

_**SWOOO-OOOO-OOOOOSH-POWW!**_ Blackfire pierced the earth. The ground opened up, swallowing dozens of screaming Thanagrians. And those who tried to fly away-

"HAAAUGH!" Starfire furiously dove through them, searing bodies in twain, sending ashes and bits of armor fluttering to the Earth. What was left alive was torn to shreds by the Gordanian backup sailing behind with blazing tridents.

A squadron of Thangarians flew from the left flank, sailing straight at Starfire with electrically glowing axes.

Starfire glared at them, spun in the air, and flung a volley of starbolts into the heart of their charge. _**"HAAAUGH!"**_

_**FL-FLASH!**_ The explosion sent them reeling every which way-

_**GRIP!**_ Starfire grabbed two by their wings, smashed them together, and tossed them to the side—Just as they were engulfed by an exploding missile—**_KABLAAM!_**

Starfire gasped, hovered, and stared to her right-

The Thanagarian artillery cannon in question was pivoting its barrel, glowing towards her, and firing another round-

_**POW!**_

Starfire held her breath and hovered backwards—_**WHUMP!**_-she caught the missile, its thruster firing as it pressed its nose painfully into the Tamaranian girl's chest. "Nnnnngh!" She fought against its pressure, being lurched downward in midair...until her boots touched the earth. Her silver headcrest glinted in the red sunlight. A snarling, and she finally overpowered the rocket, spun her body like a top, and threw the thing overhanded back at the retreating artillery cannon-

_Swissssssssh-**Clank!-BOOOOM!.!.!**_

The blast wave from the exploding cannon surged over, forcing Starfire to anchor her feet into the ground as the battle parted ways about her. She winced, squinted her eyes open, and looked around for her sister-

"_**HAAAAUGH!"**_ Two Thanagarian soldiers pounced on her, plowing her to the ground.

"UNNGH!" Starfire collapsed to the earth, choked back tears-"X'HAL-"And head-butted one guard, shattering his helmet instantly.

"Augh-!"

**GRIP!** She grabbed him by the neck and tossed him into the side of an overturned, Gordanian tank. _CLANK!_

Suddenly a fountain of green blood flew. **SLINK!**

"_AAAAAH!" _Starfire shrieked as the other soldier's electroblade cut a swath into her shoulder. She kneed the armored warrior in the chest and—with a hissing breath—reached her hands up and grasped both of his wings. _**SRCRKKKKKTTT!**_ She ripped the twitching limbs straight off him.

"AAA-HAAAUGH!" He wailed in torture.

Koriand'r's eyes twitched. A sparkle to the armband on her right side, and she shut the world off with closing lids and kicked the twitching body of the lamed Thanagarian away before rolling desperately to her chest, clutching the bleeding gash in her side-

A pair of Gordanian soldiers screamed.

Starfire's eyes opened to the battlefield. A triple volley of plasma pulses were sailing towards her position. She gasped, sputtered desperately—and picked up an electroblade and a trident on either side of her. A limping lunge to her knees, a breath, and she kicked off from the ground, abandoning two Thanagarian wounded and a legless Gordanian clamoring for her—all of whom were eaten up flamingly in the artillery bombardment. _**PHOOOOMB!**_

_CHIIING!_ The dual-wielded weapons glistened in her bleeding grasp as Starfire flew over the rows upon rows of blade-exchanging infantry, towards the last line of cannons, their hot barrels aimed at her incoming figure. _**POW! P-POW! POW!**_ Golden plasma bolts soared at her.

"NNNNGH!" She snarled and flung one weapon after another straight into the incoming volley. She followed it up with a conjoined pair of hands summong a huge starbolt that she too tossed at the line of fire.

_**FL-FL-FLASH!**_ The combined projectiles formed a wall of matter and energy that absorbed the artillery's blast, allowing Starfire to fly through the ashes, glaring at the fleeing Thanagarians as they abandoned their posts by the cannons at the last second-

"HAAAAAUGH!" Koriand'r clutched her knees to her chest and tilted her head down as she dropped, dropped, dropped-

_**SM-SMASSSSSH!**_ Koriand'r's body flew through the heart of the centermost cannon. The thing crumpled around her—and exploded as she came barreling out the other side. Bathed in blood and sparks, Starfire jumped to her feet, backflipped, and came spiraling down towards a second cannon with a dropping fist full of starbolt fury.

_**KAPOW!**_ The second cannon was lifted off the ground, rolled down a hill, and exploded into an evaporating sea of screaming soldiers.

Koriand'r stumbled to one knee, panting...panting... ...panting...

_**VRIIII!**_

"... ..." She glanced to her side, green eyes twitching.

The last cannon was aiming its sights directly on her.

Then suddenly the earth beneath it boiled, flew upwards, and exploded as Komand'r burst up from the planet's mantle. "HAAAAAUGH!" She grabbed the airborne cannon by its stalk, spun around, and threw the thing into a retreating crowd of Thanagarian infantry. _**WH-WHUDDD!**_ Growling, she squinted her eyes and cut a swath of optic purple viciously through the battlefield, lopping off heads, limbs, and torsos of Thanagarians and Gordanians alike until the bright violet beam met the heart of the bodyslammed cannon, exploding it.

**KABOOOOM!** Half of the battlefield wilted from the last move alone, and the field turned green as the Gordanian forces were suddenly and victoriously outmatching the Thanagarians.

Koriand'r hyperventilatted, heart racing violently in spite of the sudden pause in carnage nao bequeathed her and her sister. She glanced down at the soiled earth, at her soiled legs and armor—at the various warm juices trickling off her, and her twitching fingers. She was suddenly feeling very numb, and the twitching sparks from her right armband wasn't enough to snap her out of it.

Komand'r hovered down to the ground beside her sister, still seething. As the battlefield shifted before her, with the Thanagarians in full retreat, she raised her armband so that the holographic image of a Gordanian overseer appeared above her wrist. Several phrases were exchanged in the lizard tongue, with Blackfire reporting back on the success of the operation.

Koriand'r's right armband kept twitching. Her whole body shuddered, finally registering it. In brief, naked curiosity, she glanced at the odd thing covering her wound. "... ... ..." Then she glanced aside at a mesh of Thanagarian construction.

She saw an energy matrix, tied to a cylindrical pad that glowed a bright blue. She instantly recognized the technology as a teleportation device, most likely connected to one of the Thanagarian battle cruisers in orbit of the planet above. A series of mathematical equations went off in the Tamaranian girl's head, along with a horizon of lost memories, of lost faces, and all of them laced in tears. And out from that malaise of sullen emotion their emerged a ray of hope—like the fingers of an emerald goddess stringing through the blood and flame to caress her, and _forgive_ her...

A single tear rolled down Koriand'r's face. A tear of joy. And she smashed her fingers into the heart of the teleportation console. Sneering, she pulled an energy node out from its armored core—a fluctuating sphere attached to several sparkling nodes. She glanced up at her sister, held her breath, and ran over on padding boots.

Komand'r was halfway through her report when both she and the Gordanian Overseer's holographic face spun over to glance at the incoming sibling. "Kory-?"

"Komand'r malamberaat kanal'm!" Kory panted desperately. "Nnnngh!" She rammed the sphere into the ground, stood on it to steady it, and clutched her sister's shoulder, forcing the two into an embrace. "Lessul niul vat'r, de X'hal!"

"Koriand'r, drun-drun!" Komy shrieked.

But too late. Koriand'r summoned a starbolt and flung it straight down into the heart of the sphere. A split second later, and the nodes flanking the device overloaded—and the result was-

_**VROMMMMMM-MMMM-MMMM!**_

Komand'r gasped and clutched to Koriand'r as a blue aura encompassed them, then billowed outward in an impossibly huge dome of expanding energy as the Thanagarian device emitted a gigantic electromagnetic pulse. The holographic image of the angry Gordanian Overseer flickered out. Every golden trident lying about or grasped in a soldier's hand lost its glow. Every electroblade shorted out. Every hovercraft lost its thruster power. And every ray gun fizzled into nothingness.

In one split second, the battle had effectively ended. There was a naked blink of absolute, haunting silence.

Then...in the next split second...a new noise filled the air. A screaming noise. The noise of every Gordanian depending on his jetpack screaming in utter horror as each and every one of them fell—howling, floundering and helpless—to the rock hard earth below. The Thanagarians, naturally gifted with wings, blinked in disbelief as half of their overwhelming enemy suddenly fell in a single swath—along with their hovercraft and assault vessels, all of which suicidally plummeted to the ground without the aid of their technology.

And Koriand'r and Komand'r...

_**Zzzzt-ZZZTT!**_

"Nnngh-!"

"Agh! X'hal!"

They winced, shuddered... ...but weathered it. And before they could breathe a second breath, the armbands on their upper right limbs had shorted out. Their eyes fluctuated in alternating strobes of green and violet... ... ...and the murderous fire that was stuffed inside of them turned righteous, and became their own.

"... ... ...K-Kory..." Komand'r stammered.

Koriand'r managed a weak smile. "Kalasieth.. ...de Ryand'r, Komy..."

"... ... ..." Komand'r stared at Kory, then seethed. "Nnnngh—RAUGH!" She shoved her back and shouted. "Chlorbag! Hraatu lulasieth myn'r raat siul Gord'n! Viel clas'sun!"

"K-Komy...?" Koriand'r deflated, looking wounded.

"... ... ... .." Komand'r seethed, seethed, seethed. But as nearby Gordanians limped towards them with angry and bewildered looks, Blackfire took one glance around, rolled her eyes, and viciously gripped Koriand'r by the shoulders.

"Eeep!"

_**SWOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOSH!**_ A crater formed beneath as Komand'r rocketed the two of them skyward, ascending through a soup of falling and screaming Gordanians, ascending through an atmosphere dotted with crashing spacecraft, ascending through a burning atmosphere laced with ash...

Koriand'r and Komand'r simultaneously took huge, huge, huge breaths-preparing for the flight ahead...

As Komand'r flew them out of the atmosphere, into the dark, dank vacuum of space, and into the explosion riddled haze of the planet's orbit, where hundreds upon hundreds of Gordanian warships exchanged fire with hundreds upon hundreds of Thanagarian battlecruisers.

Koriand'r clung to her sister as the two swam in and around floating debris, around shredded hulls still sparkling from energy core breaches, through seas of scattered ash and frozen blood, and towards the edge of the galactic entanglement—the battle that was never theirs but was forced upon them.

The last thing remaining was a huge Gordanian prison ship. Its cannons pivoted towards the two Tamaranians and fired volley after volley.

Komand'r let loose a muted scream as her optic beams violetly met the volley and forced it back into its source. The cannons exploded in succession as the hapless ship lurched before them.

Blackfire raised a burning starbolt, holding Starfire. Starfire produced a pulse of green, clutching to Blackfire. Together the two reared their glowing fists and plowed straight through the bow of the ship—letting loose a series of explosions inside—before exiting out the opposite end with their hands empty...so that-

_**KAPOWWW!**_ The prison ship was engulfed into the flames of X'hal beneath them, silhouetting their clutching figures as they escaped the edge of the battle and shot themselves towards the center of the galaxy, a green and purple streak, conjoined in their flight towards what they thought at the time...

...was freedom.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Two and a half Years Ago)**

_**VRIIIIIIIIII!**_ A thick metal claw lowered from the laboratory ceiling, clamping a new prototype armband that was to replace the sizzled out predecessor being hoisted away. In icy precision, the cylindrical snare wrapped around the scarred flesh of Koriand'r's upper arm. _Hisssss!_

Kory shuddered, hiccuped. Face brimming with tears, she tilted her face up from where she was anchored to the floor in a body brace, forcing her naked amber flesh to stand upright. Emerald eyes darted every which way, shakily observing the splotches of scorched flesh and detached limbs surrounding her in the small, translucent chamber.

A murmuring noise.

She glanced over to see—on the opposite side of the cold metallic laboratory—the image of Blackfire, anchored to an identical brace positioned inside an identical translucent cube. She too was surrounded by various organic residue, but she wasn't sobbing. The older sister merely stood there, a distant look in her violet eyes. Everytime Starfire stirred or whimpered her name, Blackfire would make a more and more desperate attempt to look away, to avoid her younger half's gaze.

_**CHTUNG! VRMMMM!**_

Koriand'r gasped in horror. She tilted her face up, eyes twitching—as she saw several blue figures through the windows of an observation room. They murmured amidst themselves and inputted commands into a computer console. A deceptively innocent chime filled the room, followed by a neutral voice in cold Okaaran announcing the next phase of the 'test'.

A static filled the room, and five pillars of reflective blue light turned into five amber bodies as a gaggle of helpless Tamaranian prisoners were teleported into the chamber around Starfire's anchored body. A peripheral glow, and into Blackfire's cube an identical group of people were similarly deposited. Shrieks and cries of horror filled the laboratory as the desperate test subjects wailed and knelt before Starfire, begging to her with streaming tears—sobbing in her language.

Starfire sobbed back, flinching helplessly in her restraints—anchored into the Okaaran braces and powerless to move. At another whirring noise, she gasped in horror to see a worm of metal being strawed through an opening in the top of the chamber. It wormed its way through the air and fixed itself to the silver armband hugging Kory's shoulder.

"X'hal... ..." Starfire sobbed. The voices rose to a fever pitch around her, Tamaranian bodies clutching at her, pleading with her. She could do nothing.

There was an explosion of screams and shrieks—and everyone in Starfire's chamber spun to stare in shock at Blackfire's hold across the way, which was lighting up in a purple glow...and then dissipating, with all of the test subjects inside no longer present, leaving Blackfire alone in a heaving, heaving slump.

Someone nearby vomited. The smell of urine lit the air. The howling Tamaranians clawed Starfire all over, as if in a desperate attempt to climb out of the chamber on top of her. She shrieked back at them, screaming, cursing, and praying all at once—as a bolt of white hot plasma traveled oozingly slow down the metal cable from the top of the chamber, and shot visciously into her armband.

The Okaaran brace sent a neural shock into Koriand'r's body. Her eyes glowed, reflecting off the likewise green optics of every petrified soul around her, and everyone in the chamber huddled in a single shrieking ball as the fires of X'hal were forced outward from Kory's howling body, filling the chamber from corner to corner with violent hot plasma that only she could withstand, as the Okaarans had made sure of.

And in a blink, like countless numbers of times before in that month alone, the light was gone...and so were the amber skinned people, leaving a twitching Starfire alone...alone with their blood.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Three and a Half Years Ago)**

Young Kory ran as fast as her legs could carry her...

Down the rubble of the war torned Tamaranian capital...

Past crowds of hapless Tamaranians, all gathered and staring at the scene...

Towards the sound of her older sister's voice, yelping against the growling, inquisitive snarl of an Okaaran guardsman...

Towards a cluster of like-skinned blue warriors with sparkling polearms, gathered in a circle around where Komand'r had stumbled onto the ground, being leered over by the azure captain with a glistening headcrest...

And—as Kory could barely make out between the heads and shoulders of the gawking Tamaranians in attendance...

...she could see him. She could see him trembling. She could see him sobbing. She could see him being pinned helplessly to the floor by the tip of an Okaaran polearm.

Green eyes twitching, he looked up from Komand'r to Koriand'r, running towards the center of chaos and pain in the center of a ruined city...

And she looked back. And she saw...

She screamed and she saw...

She screamed and she leapt and yet she saw... .. ... ...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Four Years Ago)**

Ryand'r clung to Koriand'r, his little body trembling.

Another rumble of thunder. The entire palace bedroom shook.

Koriand'r held him close, shusshing into his ear. She gently rocked Ryand'r, humming a tune, tilting a nervous head up to gaze towards the window...

Outside the fluttering, ash-laden drapes... ...the war to end all Tamaranian wars was being waged. Green streaks of light announced the Gordanian invasion fleet descending finally into the sacred atmosphere of X'hal's creation. Screams of burning engines and Tamaranian warchants filled the air as battle was met, leading to round after round of catastrophic explosions in the sky...

Ryand'r whimpered something, his eyes streaming green tears...

Koriand'r knelt in her regal gown and held him tighter, reciting a prayer so that he may repeat it. And all the while she gazed over...

And she saw her...

She saw Komand'r sitting besides the window frame, her dark head gazing towards the chaos above...

A mature countenance.

Unhindered and unafraid... ... ...

Blissfully, haowbeit unnaturally fearless... ...

And Koriand'r was just as mesmerized as she was conflicted...and yet it strengthened her to be within the aura of such a sight, of such a sight as her sister. Her arms warmed, and she softly—persistently-spread that aura to Ryand'r... ...finally, finally calming him...

While the world around them refused to calm down, shuddering and quaking into the days, weeks, and months of the ragnorak...

A ragnorak that Tamaran...eventually won.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Five Years Ago)**

A gentle melody filled the air as little Ryand'r, dressed from head to toe in a small set of princely armor, applied his lips to a glistening golden flute. The musical chords wafted over the tall grass, lingered playfully in the green air, and floated over towards the bowing heads of the king and queen of Tamaran, as they basked in the warming glow of their goddess-granted sun.

A pre-pubescent Koriand'r grinned wide, lying chest-first in the earth and kicking her legs up at the buzzing lantern flies. She smiled as Ryand'r finished his musical number and took a bow, her applause joining that of her father and mother.

The glistening spires of Tamaran's capital hovered in the distance as Ryand'r giggled, hopped down from a boulder and dashed over towards them, leaping into his mother's hug as the king patted him on the back and complimented his musical talent. The little boy turned with a smug stance and pretended to raise his fists in a battle stance again his father—in answer to which he was promptly tackled and pinned down helplessly as the king of Tamaran proceeded to tickle his blushing neck.

Kory smiled, a giggle escaping her lips as she panned her head around—scanning the pink-and-green horizon. She saw a dark figure standing out against the world, and called out to her.

"... ... ..." An emotionless Komand'r gazed back, wearing a stark white gown that contrasted with her dark figure. She glanced at the family gathering, produced a genuine—haobeit programmed grin, and returned her gaze towards the heavens above, lost in another realm.

"... ... ..." Koriand'r tilted her head aside, smiling curiously at her sister's actions, but deciding to shrug it off. She scampered over, 'rescued' Ryand'r from the diabolical king, and put the little boy into an armlock, allowing him to win control when he so much as _tapped_ her in a petite attempt at resistance. It was Kory's turn to be pinned down as Ryand'r victoriously wrestled her into submission, his laughter filling the spotless air to join the family's...

Returning to X'hal's skyward embrace...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Fifteen Years Ago)**

Toddler Koriand'r babbled curiously as the juices ran down her tiny amber forehead. She blinked up at the wrinkled face of the priestess as she finished anointing the young child with the sacred fruit. An elderly smile, and she was lifted back into the swaddling arms of her mother, who smiled preciously at her offspring—along with the proud face of the king of Tamaran. For a split second, a dark head of hair and a pair of violet eyes poked its way into the baby's view, smiling wide and curiously. A small finger stuck into sight, only for a tinier hand to eagerly clasp it.

Two sisters' giggles...

And the contact ended as the nubile Kory was carried down a series of ruby steps, and into a warm circle surrounding a bright green plume of flame. Koriand'r cooed with excitement, her eyes sparkling at the mesmerizing sight billowing from the center of the temple. The king of Tamaran walked down a few steps further, his hand holding Komand'r in tow. Komy gave the mother and baby a quick, smiling glance as she sat down next to her father and performed a ritualistic prayer.

The queen murmured a few sincere words, touched her fingers to Kory's annointed forehead, and then extended her palm out towards the flame...towards the spirit of X'hal...

It was a warming sensation, like waiting to be born a second time. Young Kory smiled into the event horizon of the curiousness, her eyelids hanging with a sudden heaviness, and she drifted off into the great green strangeness of the next day's first breath...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 23, 2005...Today)**

The Sixth suite alighted the air, floating Koriand'r down the last few lengths of breaths from the dimness of her past. For the first time, she realized—_she felt—_the soothing nature of Terran music, perhaps in the same way that those in the audience...that Terrans in general could have been moved by strings.

The high pitched ghostly chant of a flute lingered in her amber ears, and a smile drifted through her lips, just as a tear glanced across her eyes.

Life, cosmic or terrestrial, was about learning to laugh and sob at the same time. This concrete fact—for the sake of it being a fact _learned _through the years—was enough to give Koriand'r hope in a universal sense of order. It's what kept her anchored in place, superheroic or not, rather than plowing herself into the corona of a burning star at first glance.

And yet, her lips moved: _'Komand'r... ... ...why did you not let me find you sooner...?'_

Suddenly, the communicator in her pocket sounded off. It was Robin's voice: _"Snkkt—Cyborg! Robin here! We've got trouble!"_

"Cyborg here..." Victor's voice muttered from the sidestage to Starfire's lower right. "What gives-?"

"_We have an attacker! Somewhere in the building!"_

Starfire gasped, her heart leaping faster than any jumpgate could toss it. "X'hal!" She gasped and spun every which way, looking for something...anything out of the ordinary in the otherwise tranquil concert hall.

"_Dude, hao in the wide world of sports do you know that-?"_

"_No time! Cyborg, you've got the eye! Scan all around you on multiple wavelengths!"_

"I swear to God, if someone's trying to take out Maddie-" Cyborg grunted.

"_Snkkt—It isn't Madeline! It's-"_

"Front in center!" Raven shouted from below, startling a few members of the crowd.

Koriand'r squinted, then gasped. Not only had she caught sight of Kensuke Kobayashi, but something was lighting him up like a halo—a golden orb engulfing his face, his eyes—burning with a heat to melt away his heart as it billowed downward with the precision of a comet.

"_Dammit—NO!"_ In the Tamaranian's peripheral, Cyborg could be seen leaping from the sidestage in a desperate lunge. But she didn't see him for long, for she was diving down in a sonic boom to outrace the burning projectile.

But like so many other times in her inside-out life...

...Koriand'r was too late.


	14. Suites part 5

_(Several Weeks Ago...)_

"_Well, isn't this place lovely?" Rali gawked as she slid down an ash-laden inclined and squatted besides Raven. Before them stretched a gaping cavern lined with brimstone, smelling of sulphur and copper blood. "Though, I'd give anything for a place with more of a view. Say—like that lovely spot a few leagues back with the bubbling intestines and giant crab things? Oh yes, build a little cottage by that and you've got yourself a sexy holiday spot."_

"_I never thought I'd meet someone whose sarcasm trumped my own." Raven droned, drawing forth a telekinetic map made out of glowing black lines. "If you're so quick to map out a rest area, there'll be the Valley of Immolation around the bend."_

"_Oh lovely. Rachel—**Raven—**I hate to be a bloody jinx, but is there a chance that we may have gotten lost in the act of getting lost? I mean, I'm sure Purgatory is only supposed to allow so many left turns."_

"_Don't worry. I've got this covered. I have been studying the layout of the Blood Junction for years."_

"_Oh really? Like hao many years, love?"_

"_A lot...and a **lot** of years."_

"_It's not your ability to track that I'm afraid of, to be bitchily frank, but..." Rali sneered and gestured her chestnut'd skull ahead of them._

_A horned silhouette several meters away paused in its march and glared back at the two, a pair of eyes burning. "Are you speaking of me in jest, again?"_

"_Hardly, sweet-cheeks!" Rali called back. "Just keep on being the bloodhound for Blood Junction!"_

"_I swear—If you trifle with me, I'll rip out your intestines-_

"_-and wrap them around my gullet. Yes. I heard you the first time. Well, I hate to break it to you, but..." She reached over and tugged playfully on Raven's blue robe, grinning wide. "... ...Insurance Policyyyyy!"_

"_Nnnngh..." The crimson demon twirled and clamored up a face of steaming magma. "... ...why I even bother to humor the Chosen Daughter's affection for you is beyond my infernal understanding..."_

"_Lovely servant you got there, darling." Rali murmured. "She makes Ann Coulter look like a nun. And coming from me, that says a lot."_

"_Don't get too attached to poking fun at Hyunia..." Raven droned while studying her mental 'map'. "She's been known to make true on her threats."_

"_You can lead a demon to water, but you can't teach it to soak its head."_

"_Heh. As if."_

_"Hey... ...Raven... ... ...I know you may be kicking yourself three times over because of the fact that I'm stuck with you on this little Hell Hajj you got going here-"_

_Raven blinked. "Since when was I kicking myself over-?"_

"_But I want you to know... ... ...If it weren't for this, I'd be having to pull jury duty."_

"_... ... ...so?"_

"_Spend a few more years in the City..." Rali sniffed and waved away a puff of sulphuric air and marched onwards. "... ...You'll see that, for all things considered, you've done me one hell of a favor."_

"_... ... ..."_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 23, 2005...Today)**

Raven blinked.

She hovered cross legged, low to the floor, in the shadows just flanking the audience of the Vaughan Concert Hall. She gazed with a pale face towards the rafters—where Stargirl and Starfire somewhere hovered. She reached out a thin wrist and flexed forth a mute spell, feeling for their souls.

They were in place. Everyone was in place.

_"Friendship. Mmmm...is **this** it, Fate?"_

Only when receding from the shores of this extra-sensual world did Raven manage to hear once again, the soft cello cords of Madeline Kobayashi, as she drifted and dripped her way deeply into the penultimate movement—all eyes and ears of the audience locked on the capitalist princess who was all ears. And all heart.

The Fifth Suite.

Raven calmly gazed aside. She could sense Cyborg, his thoughts racing like his heartbeat, and just as facilitated by technology and worry. She couldn't taste the texture of his mental musings, or the exact nature of his inner monologues—but she could see where they were being aimed, and Madeline Kobayashi was in the apex of them all.

Koriand'r was in an entirely different world. She always was. The girl was as alien to everyone in that Concert Hall as any stranger was to Raven on a given day. A hazy cloud of sincerity hovered about the extraterrestrial. Something reinforced by pain, but stabbed on all sides by a persistent sea of hope.

Courtney was the most evenly spread soul—like a gentle fabric waving in the breeze. She molded and swayed with the changing tides of emotion, fear and courage, joy and sorrow alike. The girl hovered above everyone—not loftily—but with a childish eagerness, wishing to understand everything better, an openness of mind.

Garfield didn't need a summary, or even a draft of a draft of one. He hovered somewhere towards the front hall of the building, thinner than a blown leaf, lost amongst the local noise of spirits. The young man didn't bother to be anything significant, and so he barely weighed against Raven's soul self. And, in some bizarre way—the dark sorceress deigned to realize—that suych a thing gave him an advantage, a camouflage...almost...

And Robin-

"_... ...!"_ Raven's violet eyes jerked to the side. Her chakra stone glinted in the theatre lights. She touched down so that she was standing firmly on two feet, her knuckles clenched at her side as she craned her neck and sensed and sensed...

There was a new soul. A new figure to the mix. And it wasn't a perfect stranger. No... ...she had felt it before. It smelled like... ...tasted like... ... ...

"Dear Azar.. ... ..." Raven murmured, her eyes scanning the ceiling as she let the sensation overcome her. "It couldn't be.. ...?"

The blue-haired girl submerged, sailing a wave of familiarity, a shape of a soul that instantly plunged her back three months ago—against her expectations—sunk her even further as she navigated the spiritual folds of herself, reacting...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(January 05, 2004)**

She cradled the Amulet in two hands, as if it weighed the bulk of her years. A sliver of moonlight reflected across its crimson surface and—for a moment—bore her eyes, along with their lethargy.

The girl sighed, held the Amulet closer to her chest, and glanced up just in time to behold a shimmering light. Before her stood a conspicuous tower of stone masonry, alone in a dark, rural valley of Salem, Massachusetts. Out from its aged brickwork pulsed a magical portal, and a towering figure hovered out—a man in platinum armor with an enchanted, golden helmet. He gazed down at the young girl in blue and finally touched down to the Earth in a gentle glide.

"Ms. Roth...Welcome to my juncture. You are safe here, for the time being."

"It is a privilege to be in your presence, Dr. Fate." She half-curtsied. "B-But please..." A nervous shifting of her robed feet. "Call me by my Azarathian name."

"Very well, Raven." Dr. Fate nodded his helmeted crown. "I see that you have with you the Amulet of Metreon."

"Yes, Doctor."

"You have endured a long, insufferably lonely life of trials to get to this point. Dare I ask, why the apprehension?"

She blinked up at him. "A-Apprehension?"

"Are you surprised that, with all of your meditations and exercises to minimize your emotions, I am still able to notice a degree of fluctuation in your countenance? Fear not, child. I am older than most things—Even those Things which haunt you."

"You h-have to forgive me if I find that of little solace." Raven took a deep breath and stroked back a windblown strand of silk blue hair. "I would very much like to consult the Amulet nao, Doctor Fate."

"To the point. I certainly cannot blame you." He flicked his wrist back towards the Tower. The bright portal reopened. "After you, Ms. Raven."

She took a steeled breath and stepped gingerly inward. Levitating, the Great Magician followed.

_**FLASH!**_

What waited inside the Tower was a labyrinthal dwelling place, replete with hundreds upon hundreds of cases, plaques, cages—all housing innumerable artifacts, relics, and exhibits. The interior stretched out, impossibly huge—full of winding, gravity defying stairwells—and greatly exceeded the outer dimensions of the tower by means that could only be supernatural.

"In all my life—In all of my readings, I have only ever _**heard**_ of this place..." Raven murmured, her violet eyes scanning about as she and Doctor Fate strolled down, up, and sideways on various staircases. "...but never once did I think I would be given the chance to see it up close."

"Those who do gaze upon these hallways are almost always destined for great things." Fate guided her along a passageway that—from a previous perspective—was once the wall, but was nao the floor. "And then there are others who come here simply for the fact that they will never depart."

Raven bit her lip. "Do you suppose I am of the latter?"

"Hardly."

"Is that an estimation, an insight, or a prophecy?" She paused to look at a pair of serrated gauntlets resting inside a crystalline case.

"Do not get too close to those." Dr. Fate said with a soft urgency. He took her by the shoulder and moved her along. "Those are the Hands of Hektik."

"I sense great chaos energies..." She remarked. "Was Hektik a great demon?"

"More like _will_ be." Doctor Fate led her down a winding staircase that bled towards a ceiling, only for it to become a floor. "And as for _your_ future, Raven—I honestly do not know what the cosmos have in store for you. So, like with so many of my supernatural dilemmas, I am left with the exact same looking glass that you must inevitably abide by."

Raven walked over towards two chairs separated by a chessboard. "And what is that?"

He moved one of the chairs out for her. "Faith."

She sighed, sat softly in the chair, and crossed her legs. "That is not very _assuring_."

"I take it you are not a great practitioner of _faith_."

She traced gentle, girlish circles atop the red surface of the Amulet in her hands. "I don't know...I've always found greater function in actions." A tall shadow draped over her. She looked up.

A beautiful, tanned-skin woman in a yellow blouse walked up with a tray of saucers. "Herbal tea?"

"..." Raven blinked. Her lips curved ever so slightly. "Y-Yes, thank you." She daintily took a cup.

The woman set the tray down onto the table and poured tea into Raven's cup. "I very much like that color on you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Blue. It suits your eyes." The woman smiled. "You have your mother's hair."

"I...uhm... ... ...H-Have we met?"

"I am Inze." The woman smiled and leaned back. "The Doctor and I were there at your birth, Raven. Despite what certain fearmongerers in the magical underworld like to suggest—Your arrival was a most glorious, joyful occasion. You were the gem of your people. And you still are."

Raven sighed. Eyes shut. "More like the bane of my people..." Nevertheless, she took a sip, swallowed, and murmured: "If it wasn't for me, they would still have a home."

"But that is the nature of our meeting, is it not?" Doctor Fate drifted over and sat in the chair opposite Raven.

Inze stepped away, waved her hand, and turned the tray of saucers into a mirror which she promptly hung on a brick wall before quietly exiting the room.

"A long time ago, you were set on a journey," Fate said. "This is nao the culmination of what you've started." He continued: "But it is not the end."

Raven blinked at him. She leaned forward and rested her cup of tea on the chessboard. "It's not?"

"Your life was never meant to end—At least not so prematurely as you may expect."

"But shouldn't it?" She exclaimed, nervously, agitated. "You know what my existence m-means! You know what my v-very soul could usher in!"

"I do know. And I just happen to rejoice in your existence. And so do the people you were born into. They rejoice."

Raven shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, groaning. "I never...Never understand _this_."

"Understand what?"

"How is it that in spite of all that I am, in spite of all the dangers that I harbor, in spite of all the dark prophecies that confirm the great horror of my being—I am still treated like a precious only-child?" Raven frowned. "Doctor Fate, I mean no disrespect when I say this—"

"By all means..."

"—but I sometimes wonder if my existence mystifies people around me into a blind adoration."

"Is it truly blindness, though?" Dr. Fate leaned his gloved fingers together. "Or is it faith?"

Raven opened her mouth to speak, paused at that, and slumped back in her seat. "Okaaaaay...that utterly confuses me."

"For once, you've said something here that is motivated by truth, and not fear."

Raven frowned ever so slightly. "I don't _do_ **fear**."

"Of course you don't. Regardless, consider these next words, child." Doctor Fate gestured while speaking: "All your life, you have considered yourself a door—A passageway for a great evil to enter into this world. And for that sake, you have delayed your entry into the land of mortals for as long as you could, until your safe haven could only be supported within the confines of your soul self."

"That is how I came about arriving here." Raven nodded. "But I do not see what you are getting at-"

"What is the nature of a doorway, Ms. Raven?"

"Where I'm concerned?" Raven leaned her head to the side. "Didn't you just say so yourself?" She sighed. "It's a manner through which my father, Trigon, could usher in a new reign of darkness upon mortalkind—"

"Need a door necessarily be hinged to swing in one direction?"

"...D-Doctor?"

"Raven..." The sorcerer reached his hands up. He gently removed his helmet, revealing the aged face of a gray-haired sage beneath. Long-lived eyes gazed sincerely at her as he spoke. "Your people—and the whole world of magic for that matter—rejoice in your existence, because they know that as much as such a doorway can introduce countless, unfathomable evils unto a righteous realm—So very well could the righteousness of our world seep benevolently upon the fields of Horror."

Raven's lips pursed. A breath of thought escaped her. "In all of my years, alone in meditation, why did I never once think of that?"

The old man smiled: "I take it that, for a very long time, you stayed in Azarath because you felt it was best for the world of mortalkind. You feared that to exit the safety of your haven, to walk among the mortal and vulnerable creatures of this land would be to doom them to eternal hellfire. I do not blame you; it is a legitimate concern. And yet, all of those years, when you could have been finding ways to buffer the walls of Azarath and preserve its bastion of existence, you instead worked on strengthening _yourself_—So that when the time came, by choice or necessity, you would descend down to _this_ plane of existence, and you would have prepared yourself to confront that door and ensure that it was fully capable of swinging both ways."

"I..." Raven bit her lip and clutched the Amulet tighter. "...I did not want to take any chances..."

"Or perhaps you had faith?"

She looked up.

He smiled ever so gently. "Creatures far older, far more ancient than you have spent eons playing it 'safe', only to suffer the horrifying fates they sheltered themselves from. Take my word for it: you are an inspiration even unto the legacy of them, Ms. Raven. And I am the one here—not you—who should be honored that you have come to seek my assistance with the next wing of your journey."

"But...B-But where do I go from h-here?" Raven stammered. "All I've ever known is Azarath! This world—it's far too strange for me. What if I slip and make an immortal mistake?"

"Where you are to go next, and what you are to face, is not so much the message I have to give, but the message you have to give yourself." He stood up, put his golden helmet back on, flicked his wrist, and transmogrified the chess table into a circular altar. "Child, nao is the time to present the Amulet of Metreon."

Raven took a deep breath. She stood up across from him. The chairs floated away and the room seemed to expand, with the heterogenous clutter of artifacts surrounding them retracting into shadowed obscurity. The altar shimmered like a pool of glowing water in an endlessly deep basin. With a dainty hand, the robed girl stretched and held the Amulet over the center of the basin. Her hand glowed a momentary obsidian...

...and she let go.

_**VROMMMM!**_ The Amulet of Metreon glowed a hot red—before pulsing, spinning, and cycling through various shades of gray, pink, yellow, red, and green. With each color, a different voice emanated—each familiar—sobbing, laughing, sighing, yelling, and shouting...in that order. Raven absorbed the sounds of the voices, recognizing them all as her own. She knew the next step that was to be taken. But after that...

She shut her eyes. She took a deep breath. "Azarath Metreon Zinthos...Azarath Metreon Zinthos..."

Doctor Fate extended both hands. "_Huraajan Metreon Ginaldafar Bensithenod Coss_..." A golden glow boxed around the altar and gently enveloped Raven. "...Raven, the translocation cube is in effect. Once the Amulet's message is given, I will be able to relocate you to where _it_ chooses—granted by the power your people bestowed upon me a century ago for this sole purpose."

Raven's eyes reopened. They glowed a hot white. "Will I know what to make of the message?" She exclaimed, loudly, above the rising tumult of the mana storm between them.

"Remember what I said—If but for a time. Faith, Raven. It will be your second greatest ally."

"And what is the first?"

He managed to shout before the noise and magic blanketed him out. "**Friendship."**

Raven blinked. "But what friends?" No response. She was standing before the altar and the floating, strobing amulet, surrounded by golden translocation energy.

Alone.

Always alone.

"**..."**

She took one last breath, shut her eyes, and pressed her fingers to her chakra stone.

_**FWSSSSH!**_

A bolt of shimmering, black energy encased her finger tips.

"...by the blood of my people, and the strength of their legacy..."

She raised the fingers to the radiating Amulet.

"...I summon the spirit of Metreon from this Amulet..."

The point between her fingers and the jewel glowed infinitely bright. She fought against the brilliance to finish her incantation.

"...may the fusion of Azarath and the teachings of Zinthos bring me wisdom, insight, and courage. Take me to where I may find my people, my destiny, and salvation from the warnings of the dire prophecies."

_**FLASSSSSSH**__**!**_

The Amulet exploded in a spectrum of light, and out from its center came a pure white, innocent glow. That glow flickered with a breath, a voice—And it spoke to her:

"_**You are as endless as you are beautiful. I am as sorrowful as I am proud. Together, we are an immaculate tragedy, but not for eternity."**_

At the sound of the voice that came from the Amulet, a huge breath was torn from Raven's lungs. Her face curved inwards, her eyes sank. After a quivering of disbelieving lips, she finally managed to return.

"You? Y-You would speak to me?"

"_**Only by your grace. Only by your power."**_

Raven choked. All of her years of training and stoic resistance wilted in a single instant. She brought a hand to her lips and clenched her eyes shut. Tears squeezed, welled, and streamed down her pale cheeks. She fought...hiccupped...but somehow found the strength—the breath of strength to swallow it all down, to regain her composure, and to murmur shakily forth:

"And I give it."

The Amulet spoke further: _**"You are strong. You are balanced. You have control over your emotions."**_

"Control over enough." Raven said. She sniffed, fought back a few lasting tears, and spoke with utter confidence. "Balance over more." She knew every word to say, every line to utter. "Strength where it permits." And..._she smiled_. "As your people have permitted."

"_**And we give it. And we are grateful. You are our last hope, and our finest treasure."**_

Raven rubbed her cheeks dry, sniffed, and smiled even more. A great warmth came over her. "She will be alone."

"_**She will be alone."**_

"She will hate you."

"_**She will hate me."**_

"She will l-love you, all the more."

"_**As she is loved. For this sake, I bestow a gift to aid her in the next journey."**_

"I will take that which you wisely give."

"_**It is not mine to give, but hers to find. This Amulet shall garner its strength from her energies, from her growth, from her powers accumulated over the years. Trust in it, and it will take you to where you need to go."**_

"And w-will she ever find you again?" Raven said, but winced….because she suddenly knew what would come next-

"_**She just has."**_

Raven reached a desperate hand towards the amulet—

For sure enough:

_**FLASSSSSH!**_ The jewel exploded, its aura merging with the gold of Doctor Fate's translocation spell. The platinum halo of magic twirled, twirled, twirled—and ripped asunder with the fading glow of a faraway ankh...

...and Raven found herself standing suddenly in the dank, dark alleyway of a City street faraway, under the glow of starlight.

Her robe and hair settled from the dissipating energies, and she stood once more alone, upon a new frontier.

"..." A mixture of confusion, shock, and disappointment washed over her. "...but this is _not_ **Mortuana**..." She gazed all around. "Is it?"

Silence.

She bit her lip and withdrew into the folds of her blue robe.

"Where did you send me...And why—?"

No sooner were those words uttered:

_**SHOOOOOOOM!**_

Raven looked straight up.

A billowing, emerald 'comet' of sorts was soaring towards the heart of Downtown. Only, it wasn't a comet. In her heightened state of spiritual awakening, she immediately sensed two souls amidst the airborne tumult. Both souls tasted of fear and desperation, nearly matched by Raven's own uncertainty.

"...I was not sent to be someplace...But to be with _someone..._" She gazed at her empty hands, hands that had for so long held the Amulet close to her, like a gift, like a burden. "Is that the gift bestowed unto me?"

Silence...until—_**THUDDD!**_—an obvious shockwave announced the landing of the distant green glow.

Raven took a deep breath. "No time to stand here, guessing..." And in a blur, she iced her body over with black energy and bolted towards Downtown...left to the future...

Left to faith.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Twelve years ago)**

Azarath.

Abandoned, empty, vacant, ghost town Azarath...was dying.

The marble scaffolds and towers were crumbling. The spires swam with rivers of fragile cracks. The temple surfaces that used to echo sobs and shouts and chants nao absorbed the heartless winds of the cosmic void above and beyond.

Raven would have been dismayed, had she not anticipated this.

Long ago...For many ages alone...

She knew this day would come.

"..." She took a deep breath. She raised a hood—_a blue hood_—and covered her short head of hair. The petite sixteen-year-old sat, alone and calm, atop the topmost spire of Sanctuary Point. Her blue-robe'd body squatted in a perfect pose, so as to drink in the last scant sights of Azarath, fading away around her.

For a split second of panic, she felt around the innermost pouch of her robe—and was relieved to find it was till there, ever real, but light as a feather. _The Amulet of Metreon_. Her treasure. Her heirloom. Her anchor—to this empty City.

A breath escaped her, long and thin—like the life leaking from that City, its architecture, its books and archives, its winding tunnels, alleyways, and secrets—into the void of the cosmos around.

"...if you're going to show yourself…" Raven murmured to the naked air. "...it's nao or never..."

There was a groan. A loud groan. The City was hissing—like a dying ghost. Beneath her—beneath the Sanctuary—Beneath the marble bones of the place, Raven could feel everything collapsing.

So it was then that she closed her eyes, meditated, and let herself billow with a deep, black energy—her soul self.

"Azarath...Metreon...Zinthos. Azarath Metreon Zinthos. Azarath Metreon Zinthos..."

Loud thunder. Crashing tumults. A skyscraper sunk into marble crags and dust. A temple spire split in two and faded into smog. Streets melted away, cobblestones and all.

Raven didn't look. She only heard. And she tried not to cry as the place that once imprisoned her and swallowed her was nao deflating like a dying pet.

"Azarath Metreon Zinthos..."

The City imploded...slowly...

"Azarath Metreon Zinthos... ..."

The loft apartment...

"Azarath Metreon Zinthos... ... ..."

The infirmary...

"Azarath Metreon Zinthos... ... ... ..."

The library...

"Azarath Metreon Zinthos... ... ... ... ..."

And finally, the bridge to the Sanctuary. And then—

"_**!"**_

Raven's eyes opened.

She met four _**Red**_ eyes surging up out of the City like a reverse comet and flying straight towards her—fangs opened wide.

Raven clenched her fists. **"Zin**_**thos**_**!"**

_**FLASSSSH—**_A black shield formed around her.

_**POW! P-POW! POW!**_ A _**Red**_ doppelganger of herself slammed repeatedly into the obsidian bubble, trying in vain to get in. _**POW!**_ It skull-banged the energy field, its body twirling and winding like a long, crimson snake. _**P-P-POW!**_ Spit and fire and the breath of rage spewed from _**Red**_**'s** gaping fangs.

"_**HRAAAAUGH! YOU ARE GOING NOWHERE!"**_

"You're right." Raven glared through the shield, her calm voice muffled by the thunder and chaos. "**We're** not."

The four _**Red**_ eyes blinked. It looked around at the crumbling remains of Azarath wasting away in the nightmare surrounding the last bastion of marble—the Sanctuary. It panted and looked at Raven.

"_**Let me in!"**_

"Why should I?" Raven droned. "Are you scared?"

"_**You insufferable witch! I am never scared! I will devour you once I am inside that cowardly shield of yours!"**_

"I have consumed Green." Raven said firmly. Unafraid. Adult. "I have the support of Yellow and Gray. I even have the listlessness of Orange and the whimsy Pink. Nao why—in Azar's name—should I need you?"

"_**I can make you strong!"**_

"I am strong." Raven tilted her head up. "I am the Chosen Daughter."

"_**I c-can grant you p-powers!"**_

"Limitless power leads to limitless madness. Nao why should I want that?"

"_**Curse you to Hellfire, girl!"**__**Red**_ panicked, spun about, and clumsily clawed the surface of the fluctuating black shield as all that was left of Azarath dissolved below them. _**"You would absorb all the others, meditate on the entirety of the shades of Raven, all but me—Why? You know what I mean to you! You know why you need me—!"**_

"If you wish to join me, you'll need to do what I could never make you do, by force—As I did with all the others."

"_**Say it—SAY IT ALREADY, you pathetic whelp!"**_

"You must convince me why—without the haven of Azarath, I should set forth into the mortal world with all of my burdensome emotions—Including **wrath**."

"**..."** The four eyes wilted. The snake tail washed away, and soon a frightened, shivering little doppelganger in crimson robes was clinging helplessly to the shield on the outside. A cringe...a shivering, and _**Red**_ sneered: _"__**Because I am the only link to your father. And as much as you hate me, I am the only thing you have to recognize him…."**_

Raven took a deep breath. "And what of my mother?"

"_**We **__**hate**__** her."**_

"..."

_**Red**_ cringed. _"__**No...*I* hate her...But absorb me...L-Learn from me...And you will no longer have to be an alien to that hatred."**_The four eyes looked up sincerely. _**"You can learn to embrace it."**_

"I will not _embrace_ mindless anger." Raven said. A deep, sympathetic breath as she lowered the force field and extended a hand forth. "...but I can certainly live with understanding it."

"**..."** _**Red**_ looked at Raven's hand. Long fingernails gingerly reached out to touch the blue girl's….

"It's okay. It's been enough centuries." Raven said with a slight smile...moisture in her eyes. "Neither of us have to be alone anymore..."

_**Red'**_**s** jaws clenched. Its eyes clenched shut, fiery. She flew forward into Raven's arms.

Raven held the _**Red**_ ghost tightly to her, gently stroking its shoulders. An exhale. "We can do this. Together—As long as we don't betray each other..."

"_**He will want us..."**_ _**Red**_ trembled against her. _**"And He will use *ME* to get to us."**_

"That's why we have to be together. We can fend him off. After all, if we can forgive Mom..." Raven took a shuddering breath. "We can do anything..."

The thunder of the crumbling City echoed louder. All fell away into the void—though not all. As both Ravens glanced down from where they levitated, they could see a charred 'skeleton' had survived the implosion of their Home. All that remained of the Sanctuary was a cobwebbing series of obsidian-black rockwork, like an inverted ant farm, stretching chaotically across the cosmic glow of the void. It was so barren...so heartless...and yet...

"Beautiful..." Raven looked over her new haven...her Soul Self, from the inside out. "I couldn't have asked for anything more serene...and so honest."

"_**Then this is our future?"**__**Red**_ murmured.

Raven gently stroked the ghost's cheek. "It is merely a junction. We'll find out our future..." She felt the Amulet in her robe grow even lighter. "Together."

"_**It seems like something is missing, though..."**_ _**Red**_ sneered at the confusion of it all. _**"Besides...I hate beauty."**_

"Shhhh..." Raven gently held her close and rested her forehead against hers. "Such is life."

Ever so softly, their chakra stones touched-**FLASSSH!** And Raven was alone, drifting endlessly in the void.

Like she always had been.

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(****Thirty-five Years Ago****)**

_Snip!_

_Snip!_

_Sn-Snip!_

With a final slice of the shears, the long lock of blue hair fell into the basin.

A fourteen-year-old Raven stared at her reflection.

"... ... ..."

Short hair. Cropped. Jagged blue. It contrasted sharply with the space between her neck and white leotard. It made her look vulnerable, but expressively so—With her coming maturity.

"Well...it's something _daring_, to start." She droned to herself, a bittersweet low key of a voice. It wasn't sorrowful, it wasn't slovenly, it wasn't manic. It was her—or most of her.

But not all of her.

A deep breath.

"It's time."

The teenager turned about and walked the length of her loft apartment dwelling. Marble banisters and walkways surrounded a bedroom with gothic furnishings—Much of which she had conjured alchemically over the last several decades of meditative studies. She arrived at a large chair and hoisted her white robe off the back of it, fitting it over her shoulders. A familiar weight pressed against her side. She paused, reached into a pouch inside the cloak, and produced the ruby—the jewel that never left her.

_The Amulet of Metreon._

It was even lighter nao than it used to be—As the decades passed and Raven cycled through the Pink, the Yellow, even the Orange. But it remained its ever haunting shade of **red**—glinting—and immaculate.

"...nnngh..._someday_." She muttered, pocketing the jewel. "But not today."

That said, she readjusted the robe, took a few bold steps out onto the marble balcony—and leapt off.

_**FWOOOOOSH!**_

Raven flew briskly over the lengths of Azarath. With the dark, MilkyWay'd cosmos overhead and the giant temple spires beneath, the young girl was a bird of her own land, lady of the currents, queen to the void. The air against her nao-short hair was strangely thrilling. But, as usual, she displayed no indication of exhilaration. She had stopped giving in to such impulses long ago.

Her flight took her to one place and one place only—the East Wing of the Library. There were many books there that Raven needed to study, but she never did—Because they were _there_. And the marking was _there_—just like it was on every other building, every building where she confronted herself, absorbed herself, and built herself stronger to meditate, to concentrate, and integrate her destiny into the abandoned realm of Azarath around her, beneath her..._within her_.

"..."

Raven took a deep breath. She felt with each passing year the marble structures of Azarath growing _thinner_. That was the best she could do to describe it. Everything around her was growing paper thin, and she feared that with just the right amount of speed and focus—she could pierce through her home with her soul self.

_Her **soul self**...What was it becoming?_

The weight of the Amulet shifted in her robes as she came to a fluttering stop before the Library's East Wing. The mark rested nakedly in front of the entrance, glaring at Raven.

Raven glared back.

_It was __**green**__._

"Here goes..." She muttered to herself—to _herselves_—and steeled her feet into steady steps up the marble ramp, and into the dusty old interior of the abandoned library—

_**FWOOOMB!**_ A series of torches lit up magically as soon as she entered.

"NNNGH!" Raven recoiled from the un-Azarathian brightness.

A voice giggled boomingly from the far side of the library. _**"SURPRISE! Hah hah hah! What's the matterrrrrrrrr? Did I scare ya?"**_

"I th-thought you were 'Courage'..." Raven winced, shielding her thin violet eyes from the torches, torches, torches. "...not 'Immaturity'."

"_**There ya go, making excuses. Like it's gonna make a difference."**_ The voice echoed throughout the library, but try as she might to locate the source—All Raven could see was row upon row of ancient bookshelves, bathed in firelight. "_**You're still a scared little girl! Why don't you go crying to Mommy? Oh, that's right—She LEFT you…"**_

"Nnngh..." Raven blinked off the bright spots and marched across the length of the library, looking down every aisle of bookshelves. "That's low. Even for you."

"_**Is it?"**_

"I've gotten over all of that decades ago."

"_**HAH! Don't lie!"**_

"And don't hide from me." Raven frowned, darting her short head of hair every which way. "It's not very sportsmanlike."

"_**Who's hiding?"**_ A green shadow(!)

"Huh?" Raven looked up—

"_**HIIIII-**__**YA**__**!"**_ A cackling Green ghost flew down with a drop kick.

Raven backflipped.

_**THUDDDDDD!**_ Her Green self slammed hard into the floor of the library. Its strength was enormous. The whole place shook and the torches wobbled on their holders.

Raven ended the backflip in a meditated levitation. She flicked her wrists, encased several tables in black telekinesis, and flung them straight at the Green anomaly. _**FW-FWOOOSH!**_

Green merely smirked, leapt, flipped over the obsidian projectiles, and darted along the wall towards the young teenager in white. _**"ReadyOrNotHereICommmmmmme!"**_ She flung herself with a heavy fist. "_**WOO-**__**HOOO**__**!"**_

Raven ducked, twirled, telekinetically lifted a marble statue, and tossed it at Green's backside.

_**WHAM!**_ _**"OOF!"**_ The Green shadow flew, tumbled to the floor, and got up—glaring over her shoulder. _**"Nao nao..."**_ She grinned mischievously. _**"...that's not very fair."**_

Raven struck a fighting pose in mid-air. "You're right." She stayed still as she lowered down to her feet and poised her hands up. "If you wanna do this your way, then fine."

"_**HAH! You for real, kid?"**_

"As real as you care to be." Raven said, then frowned. "And don't call me 'kid'."

"_**Your funeral! HNNGH—**__**"**_ Green backflipped, kicked off a bookshelf, and came down at Raven with a dropkick.

_**THWAP!**_ Raven blocked with a forearm, grunted, shuffled backwards, countered another kick, and crossed her arms just as Green pressed herself against her, fists raised.

"_**You've got some spiffy moves on ya!"**_ Green cackled and swung a fist—Raven ducked. _**"How does a pale, emo bookworm on a yogurt-and-tea diet get exercise?"**_

"You calling me scrawny?" Raven hissed and swung a left hook.

Green smirked, dodged, spun, and kneed Raven in the chest. _**"I can call you whatever I want, toothpick! Hah!"**_

Green dove at Raven. Raven side-stepped, twirled, and swung a heavy fist down towards Green's hip. Green ran up a bookshelf, flipped off it, and slammed Raven upside the cheek with a mid-air kick. _**THWAP!**_

"Unnngh—" Raven hobbled back. She frowned and raised her fists at her opponent.

"_**Y**__**ou wanna know why I can call you whatever I want?"**_ Green smirked wickedly, flexing her wrists.

"Humor me." Raven spat.

"_**Because there's OHHHH SOOOOO MUCH to choose from nao!**__**"**_ Green suddenly flashed a round-house kick.

_**WHAM!**_ Raven was caught upside the head. "Ungh!" She flew back into a bookshelf.

"_**PINK! GRAY! YELLOW! ORANGE! BUT—"**_ Green rammed into Raven, knocking the bookshelf over. _**THD!-THD!-THD!-THD!**_ The ensuing domino effect resulted in two dozen bookshelves toppling over and filling the other half of the East Wing with thunder. _**"...There is sssssssstill one color that you haven't bothered to confront. And I think it's absolutely hilarious!"**_

"Since wh-when were you so easily amused?" Raven struggled under her shadow's weight.

"_**Because...**__**"**_ Green hissed down at her. _**"...you're saving HER for last. And that's how I know you're nothing more than a coward."**_

Raven blinked. She saw in Green's ghostly eyes a reflection of four _**Red**_ spots—_there_ and gone again. She frowned. "Don't count me so short. I'm not a coward for waiting till the last second to take her on..."

"_**Oh?**__**"**_ Green held Raven's neck still with one hand and raised a fist in the other. She aimed for the teenager's fragile nose. _**"Then what are you?"**_

"I'm being who I was born to be. The Daughter of Destiny." A glint of **yellow** firelight off of violet eyes. "I'm being—SMART!" Raven vaulted her legs up.

"_**AUGH!"**_ Green was flipped over her head and towards a far wall—_**SLAM!**_

Raven kick-jumped to her feet. She spun—

Green was already charging her. _**"HAHAHAHAH**_—_**EAT**__**IT**__**—"**_ She flung her fist.

Raven ducked.

_FWOOSH!_ Green slid past her.

Raven somersaulted over towards a torch, grabbed the flaming staff off its hold, and flung it—

-just as Green turn around. _**FWOOOMB!**_ _**"ACCKK! AAAACK!"**_ Green flailed as the edges of her green cloak caught aflame. Her emerald eyes flickered and pulsed as she tried in vain to put the thing out. _**"Dang it all-You stupid bimbo!"**_

"Now who's scared?" Raven panted, wiping her brow.

"_**You cheated?"**_

"So what? You should have been prepared." Raven marched towards her. "But you didn't have the Yellow sense to see that coming. You didn't have the Gray comprehension of accountability or consequence! Because you were alone, you were unprepared for what there was to face."

"_**You think I'm afraid of being burned?.!.?"**_ Green muttered, still trying in vain to stamp out the fire. _**"Curse being a shadow! Wish I could take this dayum cloak off—"**_

"Allow me." Raven calmly flicked a wrist.

_**THWPP!**_ A ball of obsidian encased the flame, choked the fires, and put it out. Green's ectoplasmic robe was still smoking, but no longer burning. _**"Whew..."**_ She glanced the real girl's way. _**"...you think I'm weak cuz I'm alone, huh?"**_

"I think you could use some practice." Raven dusted herself off and closed the gap between the two. "And so could I."

"_**You do realize, of course, that absorbing me won't help you with **__**Her**__**.**__**"**_ Green smirked devilishly. _**"She'll still have the power to scare you."**_

"That's the thing about true courage." Raven fiercely grabbed Green by the neck of its 'leotard'. "You have to _acknowledge_ fear, and yet strive to beyond mere bravery."

"_**And just wh-what's there to find?"**_ Green blinked, momentarily frozen for once.

"Knowing what's at the end of the journey kinda defeats the point of being brave, don't you think? Now get your ass inside me." She headbutted Green, their chakras colliding—_clank!__**-FLASSSSSH!**_

In the resulting pulse of obsidian, Raven stood alone, her arms flexing with dark energy. A wind kicked up, licked out the flames, and left Raven once again by herself in the shadows, the mute-mute shadows of dead, abandoned Azarath.

The girl took a deep breath and shuffled over towards a grimy mirror on the wall. She saw natural violet eyes on her face. Any faint hint of **Red** was gone. Though, in fact, it was never there to begin with.

"Totally worth the haircut."

The Amulet felt lighter. The air was thin, healing. Raven quietly shuffled about and began cleaning the library up. But in mid-duty, she frowned and cackled proudly to the air.

"And in answer to your question, I exercised by carrying hundreds of books around, three hours a day, through the City Streets of Azarath...on _chicken legs!"_ Silence. "Pfftt..." She grunted to the shadows. "...bitch."

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(Seventy Years Ago)**

Raven moved a pawn across a chessboard and looked across from where she sat astride an abandoned courtyard's stone fountain.

"There are only three left."

"_**Indubitably."**_ **_Yellow_** responded, adjusting her spectacles as she studied Raven's move before picking up a knight and landing it beside Raven's rook. _**"And just hao did Pink take it?"**_

"The way she always did. With a giggling breath full of puppy barks and flowers."

"_**I see you digested her humor into a piercing form of meticulous sarcasm."**_

"Yeah, and then I swallowed a breath mint made out of ennui and self-loathing."

"_**I rest my case."**_ **Yellow** stroked her chin in thought. _**"Then I imagine time is afoot, and you'll be making your sojourn into the realm of the living and taxation?"**_

"Something like that." Raven eliminated _**Yellow's**_ knight with a brazen king and stared boredly across the game. "I just need to make sure that I have all of my senses together."

"_**Enough about senses. Hao about your studies?"**_

"I've read through the Book of Metreon, the Mortuana Scrolls, and the Charonomicon. I should be at a comprehensible reading level for the Book of Azar once it is bequeathed me."

"_**And you've studiously attended to the details of the prophecies?"**_

"I know whom to look for, hao to summon Hyunia, and what to do with my Amulet."

"_**Hao much does that weigh at this point, anyways?"**_

"Feels like I'm lugging around an anvil strapped to my ovaries."

"_**Cute. But base." Yellow**_ moved a piece.

"I aim to please." Raven moved a piece.

"_**Hao about your spell casting?"**_

"Oh, I'm good on that." Raven said with a slight smirk.

"_**Yes? Show me."**_

_**KRAKOWWWWWW!**_ Raven single handedly leveled an entire building across the courtyard with an oustretched hand of strobing black telekinesis. The dust settle and the thunder ended.

"_**Hmmph. Nao I know hao you'll go about solving the spatial disruption issue when you convert this landscape into your soul-self upon the final descent."**_

"Plus, I never did like that tower." Raven folded her hands under her robe. "It blocked the view."

"_**The view of what?" Yellow**_ moved a bishop.

"Exactly." Raven blocked with a pawn. "I know that it's been a long time coming, but I have to confront the last three. I saved them for a reason-"

A sneaky rook. _**"I trust that you did. Your strategem is matched only by your diligence to the cause of righteousness. If I didn't know better, I would venture to guess that you would make a great knight, not unlike the pieces we regularly do battle with across this very board."**_

"I would beg to differ." Raven slid the King aside.

"_**Is that an affirmative?" Yellow**_ pursued with the knight.

"Not an affirmative..." Raven slid her queen fatefully across the black and white tiles and knocked over _**Yellow's**_ unguarded king. A smirk. "...checkmate."

_**Yellow**_ blinked. Her spectacles slid down the bridge of her nose in a shocked slump. A ruffling of a cape—And **_Yellow_** looked up to see Raven in her emblematic white, hovering over her.

"... ... ..." Raven stared down softly, knowingly.

_**Yellow**_ took a deep breath. **_"I'm next. I'm the first to go."_**

Raven slowly nodded. "It is time."

"_**You are saving *her* for last, aren't you?"**_ The amber-shaded double remarked. **_"I suppose that is most logical. In that fashion, you will have all of the cards stacked up against her."_**

"It's not like that...," Raven shook her head. "I know it makes sense to think of it that way—But sometimes you have to cast intelligence aside to truly understand _emotion_. I know that nao. I didn't always."

"_**And quite a distance you have traveled."**_ **_Yellow_** slowly stood up with a sigh. _**"What is your plan, then? I at least deserve to know that."**_

"It's not a plan. It's an improvisation."

_**Yellow**_ raised a bored eyebrow.

"I mean it. _**She**_ needs me. Only me. She needs to know that I'm the one appealing to her—and not all the parts of me I've come to absorb. And that means I'll have to swallow up one last one before I can summon the courage to make this last step."

"_**Green."**_

"Exactly."

"_**Your timing couldn't be more perfect."**_ **_Yellow_** took her glasses off and squinted curiously. _**"So long ago... ...You could have consumed me in a blink. You would have had all of my talents at your disposal. And yet—You've kept me here for this long. Was it for the company?"**_

"Partly, yes." Raven said, then a cool smile. "Mostly because—I wanted to be sure that I was able to _earn_ you."

_**Yellow**_ nodded. _"**And you have, dear. Whole-heartedly..."**_ Her arms slowly stretched side to side. **_"Make use of your wise choice."_**

But before anything else, Raven drifted forward. And she hugged her. She murmured over the girl's shoulder. "I'll always be thankful for you.. ..."

"_**All things come to an end..."**_ **_Yellow_** patted her back and leaned back to stare gently into Raven's face. _**"Live long. Treasure knowledge. Be glad that you have the ability to be glad."**_

"I will. And so will She." And she leaned forward, foreheads connecting...

Chakras...

_**FLASH!**_

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(Ninety-two years ago)**

"_**And in spite of all the horror you had to face, all the perpetual loneliness, all of the horrible duldrums of stumbling across this yucky place alone..."**_ **_Pink_** smiled, her feet kicking off the side of the large canopy bed. _**"... ... ...you chose to consume Compassion early, rather than have her stick around to make you feel good. Hee-Hee-Hee!"**_ She tilted her head up. **_"Why so serious?"_**

"Quit fussing!" Raven hissed and shoved _**Pink**_'s head back down as she sat behind her on the bed. Her fingers expertly braided **_Pink_**'s long blue locks as she murmured on. "Compassion meant a lot to me in those early days. But I knew that she wasn't something that I needed-"

"_**But Yellow-"**_

"Exactly. I needed _her_. But Compassion? I would have kept her around only because I _wanted_ her around. But, seriously, what would that have accomplished? I don't need somebody cheerful around to be cheerful. In all honesty, that can be a little grating-"

"_**Is that why you avoided me all these years, fuzzy-butt?"**_ **_Pink_** stuck her tongue out.

"It was never about your personality. Just your fashion choice."

"_**But Pink is the new Purple that was the New Black-"**_

"Yeah, I got it-"

"_**-that was the new Lavender that was the new Gray-"**_

"I GOT IT-"

"_**-that is the new white! Tee hee hee!"**_ **_Pink_**'s toes curled as she cupped a hand over her giggling mouth. _**"Ohhhhh—When this is all said and done, what are you going to wear? A rainbow?"**_

"Not unless I want to be tossed by my eleven brothers into a pit to be sold into slavery."

"_**Hmmm?"**_

"Sorry. My attempt at a joke. I've been reading up on the Abrahammic Religions-"

"_**Oh! Oh! I've got a joke!"**_

Raven sighed and paused in her braiding. "Go ahead..." An exasperated smile.

"_**Knock knock."**_

"Who's there...?"

"_**No hero."**_

"'No hero' who?"

"_**NO HERO AND SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"**_ **_Pink_** kicked her legs up. _**"Hee hee hee..."**_

"... ... ...I don't get it."

"_**BOOOO!"**_ **_Pink_** did a raspberry. _**"You need to think happy, girl! HAPPY!"**_

"Or I just need opium." Raven put the finishing touches on the double's hair.

"_**Life is too absurd to live by some rulebook and golem-march along the grid, you silly goose!"**_

"I wouldn't know much about life. I think the simple fact that death encapsulates it makes life not all it's cracked up to be."

"_**There you go again! You know, if you like going kerplunk so much—Why not replace your bed pillow with tombstones? Ha!"**_

"I would be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it."

"_**... ... ... ..."**_

"... ... ...Ahem. Th-That was a joke too."

"_**Oh! OH! Haaa-haaa-haa! I liiiiike it!"**_ **_Pink_** gleamed.

"There we go...all done..." Raven let the girl's braids dangle.

_**Pink**_ bounced off the bed and skipped across the lofty room and over to a mirror. She turned and looked over her head at the reflection and grinned wide. **_"Saaaaaay—You did it good this time!"_**

"Practice makes perfect." Raven shrugged and sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed. "I use the same philosophy in making things explode with telekinesis."

"_**At least you didn't send my brain flying in different places. My spine's not supposed to come out until spring! Hehehehe!"**_

"... .. ... ..." Raven leaned forward and stroked a blue thread of hair over her ear. "Uhm... ...I've been wanting to ask your opinion on something..."

"_**Shoot, deadeye!"**_

"Actually—Someone."

"_**If it's about Yellow, you can tell her to go soak her fat head! Hehe!"**_

"... ... ... ...Do you think Mother knew happiness, once in her life?"

_**Pink**_ spun about. She toyed with her lip. **_"Hmmmm ... ... ...Arella Roth. Liked to tend to the garden. Great at chess. Good with the harp..."_**

"Those are all _**hobbies**_..." Raven glared.

"_**Pffft...Well of course they are! A woman forced to be the bride of a demon overlord needs many a thing to keep her mind distracted from horrible, horrible things."**_ **_Pink_** twirled once and bounded over to Raven, scrunching down with wide eyes. "_**But joy... ...did she know joy... ...?"**_

".. ... ... ..." Raven's eyebrows raised patiently.

_**Pink**_ smiled. **_"You're alive today, are you not? A woman like that would have given up, if it wasn't for her one joy. If it wasn't for you, Raven... ..."_**

"... ... ..." Raven took a deep breath, she glanced aside and choked on something. "I... ...erhm... ... ...I just wanted to hear that from y-your lips... ...Th-Thank you..."

"_**Anytime, sunshine!"**_ **_Pink_** saluted coyly. _**"Oh! Oh!"**_ She jumped up and daon. "**_Let's do your hair nao! Let's! Let's!"_**

"Mmmmm... ...Don't think I'll be a good candidate." Raven clutched at her long strands and murmured: "I'm thinking of cutting mine short soon."

"_**WHAT?"**_ **_Pink_** gasped dramatically and clutched her hands to her chest. _**"WHY?"**_

Raven's eyes were thin. "You try brushing long hair everynight before going to bed for two centuries."

"_**... ... ...AH. Okay. SPOILSPORT!" **_She raspberried again.

Raven shielded herself. "And here I thought you were someone I could have a sane conversation with."

"_**Getting bored of me, huh?"**_

"I didn't say-"

"_**Heehee... ...Silly Raven."**_ The fuschia girl grinned. **_"I know very well that you have to GOBBLE ME UP soon. But before you do-Can we play one more game of hide and seek? Pleeeease?"_** She pleaded with folded hands, her eyes sparkling. _**"Oh please please please PLEASE?"**_

"Nnngh...Fine. You win. You always win."

"_**Not alwayyyyyyyyys!"**_ **_Pink_** giggled. _**"Come on! Just one last game! I promise I won't lead you on like Black did. I just want this to be special!"**_

"Cross your heart?" Raven smirked wryly.

_**Pink**_ gestured. **_"And hope to fart! Heeheehee!"_**

"Ugh... ..." Raven stood up. "I swear. It's like Orange is still amongst us."

"_**Isn't she, though? You smell like her."**_

"Start running, girl."

"_**Eeep! Hee hee hee hee!"**_

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(One Hundred and Five Years Ago)**

"_**For the last time... ..."**_ **_Yellow_** glared from behind her spectacles. _**"You do not look fat."**_

"Are y-you certain... ... ...?" A teenage Raven glanced down at her leotard'd self. "I think I can feel it when I walk up stairs-"

"_**You live in a spiritual vacuum where metabolic rate is a relative concept and obesity is a mortal triviliaty. Hao in the gleaming spires of the Source Wall could you possibly get fat?"**_

"Heh... ..." Raven ran a nervous hand through her hair and returned to the chess table resting between her and _**Yellow**_ on the side of the stone fountain. "You're the last one I'd expect to be reassuring."

"_**At this rate, I'll be the last one here, pyriod."**_

"Both you and I know that's not true." Raven moved a bishop across the chessboard and leaned her chin on her wrist. "There are a few left."

"_**After what you went through with Purple..."**_ **_Yellow_** slightly smirked and blindly blocked Raven's bishop with a knight while ambidexterously writing numerical equations on a scroll and simultaneously reading through a dead language's encyclopedia hovering in front of her. _**"... ...it's only understandable that you would hesitate in the rest of your 'absorptions'."**_

"I prefer to say 'consumption'."

"_**Then you give it a malovelent connotation."**_

"I don't see it as malevolent."

"_**Of course you don't."**_

"More like.. ... ..." Raven shrugged, moving her bishop again. "Grim."

"_**Indeed."**_

Raven frowned. "Of course, you do know that there's more to me than 'grim'."

_**Yellow**_ blocked Raven once more with a second knight. **_"The universe is grim. You're the daughter of a celestial being who wants to dominate the universe. It is only fitting that the vessel for his cross-space transferrence be outfitted with something of a like mind."_**

"Okay, nao you're just trying to insult me." The bishop took out a pawn.

"_**Please..."**_A rook slid up against the bishop. **_"If you took my words of wisdom as 'insults', you would have consumed me ages ago just to shut me up."_**

Raven carefully eyed the last-moved rook. "You have a point there. But—Why is that, though?"

"_**Why am I countering your every strategic move?"**_

"No. Why does the universe have to be grim?"

"_**Is there a 'Philosophical' Raven, nao? What color would she be—Turqoise?"**_

"I mean it..." Raven moved her bishop closer towards _**Yellow's**_ king. "Why does the universe have to be grim—And why does that make it perfect for a tyrannical despot of the mystic arts to wield dominance over it?"

"_**Entropy, my dear Raven."**_ **_Yellow_** briefly looked up from her multiple research projects balanced on the side of the fountain. _**"All things are made to be lesser things. Matter is refined and redistributed. Substance decays. Stars burn out. And every bird must someday die. That is the nature of things. It is in the revolutions of energy distrubtion that rotate between the Nao and the ever so dim Then that we have a chance to embrace the better halves of ourselves, and learn to enjoy the beauty contained therein."**_

"What do you think Mother believed?"

_**Yellow**_ paused. She squinted through her spectacles before removing the glasses and glancing nakedly at Raven. **_"It had to have been hope—much rather than intelligence—that inspired her to place you where you are nao, against all odds, with so many things weighing against you."_**

"To what end?"

"_**It's worked so far, has it not?"**_

"That's not a solid answer." Raven frowned.

"_**If you're looking to me to figure out why people do things in the pursuit of happiness when all reality is doom and gloom—You're asking the wrong person. I suggest you go to someone else."**_

"Like who?"

"_**You know."**_

"I do?"

"_**Or at least you will, if you give up stalling."**_ **_Yellow_** pointed at the board. _**"I know one thing, though."**_

"And what's that?"

"_**Your bishop has said its last prayer."**_ And that uttered, **_Yellow_** eliminated the said piece with a pawn.

"Ughh..." Raven groaned, running a hand over her face. "Why do you always wait to do that with a _pawn_?"

"_**Cause and effect, dear-"**_

"Oh hush."

"_**Hmmm-hmmm-hmm..."**_

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(One Hundred and Twenty-Two Years ago)**

As soon as Raven sauntered into the lavatory, she wish she hadn't. A thick fog filled the air, perfumed with spices and nectar. Several candles were lit, donning every banister and pedestal and shelf with sensual flickering dimness. From beyond the corner of the public bathing chamber, a kaleidoscope of light danced from splashing water, as a series of giggles lit the scented air.

"Oh dear Azar... ..." Raven groaned, facepalming. A deep sigh. She tossed back her blue fountain of hair and marched swiftly, firmly, into the place.

_**Purple**_ was lying back in a shallow corner of the pool—magically heated up by infernal powers currently beyond Raven's comprehension. The girl lounged in the deep hissing water, her doughy white skin turned red by the massaging liquid. At the sound of the sorceress' footsteps, she tilted her head up and cooed: **_"Mmmmm.. ... ...I was wondering when you would show up."_**

"Y-Yeah... ..." Raven grumbled, standing nervously at the edge of the pool. A moment of awkward silence, and she cleared her throat. "Right, then. Ahem... ..." She pulled a heavy Amulet out from beneath her robe's fabric. "This, is the Amulet of Metreon. With it, I shall store your essence and keep you close to me, absorbing your-"

_**Sp-Sploosh!**_ **_Purple_** stood up, oozing out of the water, shaking the droplets off her like crystalline angel wings hung aloft in the candle-lit air. Porcelain blue hair clung to her shoulders, strategically yet playfully covering her nipples as she stood naked and glistening before her dry mirror by the edge of the pool. A deep, curving grin and twinkling violet eyes.

"-y-your... ...erhm.. ...ahem..." Raven stayed perfectly still as her eyes darted up towards the ceiling. "... ...I'll absorb you into my soul-self, -"

"_**Hmmmm.. ... ...Sweet girl. You certainly have grown in all the right places, haven't you?"**_

"Uh... ..." Raven blinked at the ceiling. "I apologize...?"

"_**Such a shame to be so alone.. ... ..To put it all to waste..."**_

"I beg your pardon-?" Raven frowned and looked down. "Mmmmphhh!" Her eyes bulged.

_**Purple**_ was kissing her hard on the lips, head tilted in an oral Norman invasion. **_"Mmmmmm-mmmmmuah!"_**

"Nnngh-" Raven shoved the naked teenager off her with a splash of pool water. She blinked. _**WHAP!**_ She slapped **_Purple_** across the cheek.

"_**AH!**_" **_Purple_** clutched her face as a deep red blossomed through her upper torso. She smiled drunkenly and cooed: _**"Oooooh... ...hooo-hooo-hooo...hmmm..."**_

"... ... ..." Raven sighed and rubbed the bridge her nose. "Nnnngh.. .. ...Let's get this over with." She grabbed _**Purple**_ by the neck and yanked her towards her forehead.

The chakras made contact, and—with a shriek of delight—_**Purple**_ disappeared. **_FL-FLASH!_** The amulet weighed more in Raven's grasp.

"... ... ..." Raven took a deep breath. "Azar help me if I'll ever need _her_." She waved an arm towards the myriad of candles and made to put them all out with an extinguishing spell.. .. .. ... ...when she paused, her violet eyes darting towards the poolside.

A plate of chocolates rested in open view.

".. ... ... ..." Raven glanced all about. She chewed her lip, a lip that briefly curved, and she plucked three chocolates off the plate, waving the candles out so that she chewed in the delightful darkness.

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(One Hundred and Forty Years Ago)**

"_**Ugggggghhhh...Hao much longerrrrrrr?"**_ _**Orange**_ moaned achingly, her rubbery arms hanging as she lethargically aided Raven's telekinetic field with an amber stream of energy.

"Just a little more to the left... ..." Raven's eyes hardened on their handiwork. "Just a little... ... more... ...a smidgeon—There!" She flicked her fingers. "Put it down!"

_**THUD!**_ The canopy bed landed in the center of the newly furnished apartment room. A cold, cosmic wind billowed softly inward from the balconies of the loft living quarters. Gothic architecture edged every chair, couch, and dresser in the place... ...appealing to a grim but creative aesthetic.

"Perfect." Raven dusted off her hands and hovered down to her feet. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"_**'Smidgeon'?"**_ **_Orange_** made a sick face. _**"Did Yellow teach you that one?"**_

"I'll have you know, I actually do reading of my own from time to time." Raven folded her arms under her robe. "Did you know that the fate of the Hundred Years' War once hinged on a lone Frenchwoman who heard voices in her head-?"

"_**Borrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiing."**_ **_Orange_** slumped back against a wall, digging a finger into her ear. _**"Mmmm... ...why are we up here doing all this work? This is stupiddddd."**_

"Because you and I will have to depend on each other." Raven said. "Without any _other_ people to lean on, that—well—that makes everything in life something to _work_ towards, doesn't it?"

"_**BELCCCCH!"**_ **_Orange_** pouted. _**"What's the point in even having your own room if you've got the whole friggin' city to crash in?"**_

"Because one day, I will no longer have this City all to myself..." Raven padded over and started making the bed, smoothing out the sheets and blankets above the mattress. "Sure, I'll always have the domain of my soul self to depend on, but I'll have to live a responsible life in the mortal realm. And that means having to look after myself, finding a home, blending in with others-"

"_**But not too many others..."**_

"Hmm... ... for once, that makes the two of us."

"_**If we spent all this time in this stupid, boring City just to be let loose—Then what's the point?"**_ **_Orange_** grunted and folded her arms as she slouched. _**"I swear. Mom's a big Doo-Doo head."**_

"Hey!" Raven flashed a look.

"_**What?**_" She yawned without looking back. **_"You don't agree with me? I know you sure as Hell haven't thrown RED into the mix. Or have you been doing things behind my back without telling me?"_**

"... ... ..." Raven sighed and finished making the bed. "There's another reason why you need me. You'd be a pathetic, helpless, clueless oaf without me to attach to."

"_**Poo on you. And just why would you need ME, Miss High and Mighty?"**_

"Who knows?"

"_**Exactly-"**_

"But I'm willing to find out."

"_**HA! You haven't the Courage."**_

"As a matter of fact. I don't."

"_**Hmm... ...So you're holding off on her too? What's up with that? I could have sworn you'd have consumed her first, not Gray."**_

"Because.. ..." Raven sauntered closer while _**Orange**_ hung there with her eyes shut. "I like to work towards things. If I can solve everything in this City with a mere contact of stones—Then what kind of a person would I be turning into? Hao would I improve myself to deal with the mortal world-and with Father?"

"_**And yet...heh ... ...you swallowed sorrow immediately. You're really just a hypocrite underneath, aren't you?"**_

"You tell me."

_**Orange**_ yawned and stretched slightly. **_"Nothin' doin'. The only thing I'm good at judging is myself."_**

"You and me both." Raven's voice was much, much closer this time.

"_**Eh?**_" The doppelganger opened her eyes, to see she and Raven were nose to nose. **_"Oh, you are a bitch."_**

"Takes getting used to." Raven droned and leaned their foreheads together, the two girls' chakra stones toasting like champaign glasses. _Clink!_

_**FLASSSSSSH!**_

Raven reeled, alone, on wobbly legs. Standing in the middle of her newly decorated apartment, she took a deep breath, flexed her arms, and shrugged.

"Hphmm... ... ...Doesn't feel all that different, actually." She muttered. "... ... ... ..._**BELLLLLLLCH**_!" She yawned and limped her way towards the washroom, all the while reaching a lazy hand back to scratch her butt.

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(One Hundred and Seventy-two Years Ago)**

"_**I must say, I think that was quite an exceptional way to ensnare Fear."**_ _**Yellow**_ moved her bishop across the chessboard as she sat beside Raven on the fountain in the center of the Azarathian courtyard. _**"Though, it was a bit theatrical and grim, from the sound of it."**_

"It's something I'm not too particularly proud of." Raven adjusted her white robe and tried to get a comfortable seat as she stared at the black-and-ivory pieces. In days recent, she found herself having to sew a new leotard. So many eons of studying and pouring over scripture, and only nao did she accept the fact that she was growing in other ways as well.

"_**You would do well to be proud of showing off while you can afford it."**_

"Nao you're just teasing me-" Raven reached for a rook—paused, blinking—and squinted at _**Yellow**_. "Wait. Do I have to consume that too?"

"_**Consume what?"**_

"Erm... ...'P-Pride'."

She adjusted her spectacles and smirked ever so slightly. _**"That is a vice, my dear."**_

"Hrmmm ... ... ...Whatever." Raven droned and slid the rook across the board. She removed her hand and leaned back with a sigh. "All the better. The less pieces of me I have to consume, the better."

"_**And what brought you to that conclusion? Sounds like a hypothesis to me."**_

"I know that what I'm supposed to be doing is making me stronger... ...Giving me more control over my emotions-"

"_**Among other things. Let's see that levitation spell."**_

"Ahem." Obediently, Raven twiddled her fingers in the air. "Besaalamuth laneem crettunum."

The board rose a foot above the edge of the fountain. The pieces remained perfectly in place.

"_**Very impressive."**_ **_Yellow_** nodded. _**"You seem to have the grasp of micro-manipulations. Many sorceresses think that the bending of the soul self is meant purely for destructive purposes. But, as a matter of a fact, they can render you a veritable surgeon."**_ That uttered, the amber-eyed double squinted at the board. A golden tendril of energy danced from her chakra stone and enveloped a bishop, moving it to eliminate Raven's rook before likewise floating the 'defeated' piece over to the far side of the fountain. **_"Sometime soon, I should teach you hao to mend wounds with your powers."_**

Raven blinked. "You mean I can heal people-?"

"_**And perhaps more. Contrary to popular assumption, the body is a tenant of the soul. Not the other way around."**_

"Hmmm... ... ...Guess that shouldn't be too hard for me to wrap my head around."

"_**Smart girl."**_

"Watch it." Raven glared. "But back to the issue at hand—I know that I'm becoming stronger with each piece of myself that I consume..."

"_**But...?"**_

"I feel like, with each step I take—I am getting stronger, yes. But I'm also getting... ...getting..."

"_**More complicated?"**_

"Number."

_**Yellow**_ raised an eyebrow.

Raven sighed. "I know it sounds ridiculous."

"_**Only because it is ridiculous. Raven, as your facets fall under your control, and you develop yourself into someone who is heterogenously branded with all of these delightfully different consciousnesses—it would behoove you to become a mosaic, not a bulwark."**_

"Isn't that the point, though?" Raven cocked her head curiously to the side as she raised a finger towards the chessboard and moved her other rook. "I'm creating a shield against my father—who may wish to exploit one of my emotions to get to me."

"_**He cannot exploit that which you master. And to master something does not necessarily mean to imprison it..."**_ **_Yellow_** telekinetically darted her pawn over and eliminated Raven's rook in an effortless stroke. _**"Besides...Sometimes you have to lose control in order to realize hao to put it all back together."**_

"Ugh..." Raven facepalmed as her last rook was taken from the gameboard. She glared tyredly. "Why do you hate my castles so much?"

"_**Because they're impulsive, garrish, and they make me think of crooked teeth."**_

"And just what have you to go by?"

"_**You still haven't tracked down Orange yet, have you?"**_

"Uhhh... ...No."

"_**You'll see."**_

"Wait—I just learned a spell to 'hone in on' my other selves." Raven briefly smirked and raised the Amulet of Metreod. "Here, I'll show you-"

"_**Blast it, child-!"**_ **_Yellow_** sneered.

"-Ganzem lavarath mikkorod!"

"_**Wait-!"**_

Too late. The levitation wore off, and the chess board fell hard—its pieces flying all over the fountain's naked basin. _Cl-Cl-Clatttterr!_

"... ... ..." Raven winced, blinking.

_**Yellow**_ sighed and raised a scroll with a disgusted expression. **_"Very well. Back to quantum mechanics and string theory...?"_**

"Ugh...Sure, I guess."

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(One Hundred and Ninety-Eight Years Ago)**

Raven's fingers trailed the marking on the door to the Azarathian Crypt. The engraved line glowed dimly as they intersected on a dark focal point.

"... ... ..." The blue-haired mid-pubescent turned and squinted down the long, abysmally deep stairs leading into inky black darkness. "Hmph... ...Where else would she be?"

She took a deep breath. Fearless, she lifted up a few centimeters off the ground and slowly drifted, drifted down the stony steps—the blackness swallowing her up like a blue stone in a lake of obsidian. The girl fumbled under her robe and produced a familiar object, grown heavier in the passing sunless days. The Amulet of Metreon.

"Vassalaatu Imdu Sona." She chanted, and the heirloom glowed with a dim silver, lighting the descent ahead—but barely. Every unaccounted breath, every elbow brush, and ever ruffle of the girl's white robe became a tumult of alien echoes against the marble walls of the place. The smell of mildew and the endless tripping of an ungodly liquid completed the melancholic experience, enshrouding the girl and her magical 'lantern' with thick claws of black.

_**Black... ...**_

Raven's violet eyes peered left and right. Suddenly, a flutter to her long blue threads, she had emerged into an open spot—the catacombs of Azarath. As she hovered forth, undaunted, the stone effigies of many a sage and scholar to have passed before her time drifted in and out of the onyx curtain. Half of the faces she recognized from the books _**Yellow**_ had lent her. The other half were delightfully inconsequential. She had a goal... ...She had someone to find... ...She had put this off for too long, and she couldn't understand why.

She only chanted to herself:

"I don't do **fear**."

Violet eyes. Left and right. Each alcove and sarcophagus that she passed was like an empty hovel, a buildingfront waiting for its loyal resident who would never be. In an eerie blink of contemplation, Raven realized that the city of Azarath welcomed her with as much eagerness below ground as above. This was her dead city. This was her home.

"Where the blazes is she... ...?" Raven grumbled, starting to lose her patience as she found herself in the center of a labyrinth of catacombs and stony tunnels. She twirled about, her robe billowing behind her, casting liquid shadows against the penumbra of her Amulet's glow. "This is the only place where she would hide-"

Raven turned and looked over her neck. She saw a spotlight on the wall from the glowing Amulet. And inside it was the stringy shape of her black shadow. And reaching up to it, the shadow of someone's hand-

"... ... ...!.!.!" Raven spun and shone the light down the opposite end of the hallway, just in time to see a fountain of kicked dust and a collapsing candle holder. _Th-Thap!_ A scampering noise, and a second curtain of dust settled around a dark corner.

The girl tensed up. She stared straight down. Below Raven's boots—on the dusty and grimy floor she refused to touch—there was a series of naked footprints. All her size.

"Hrmmm... ... ..." She glanced up once more. She hovered forward, stretching the Amulet straight ahead. "You know, you're not making this any easier for either of us." She came around the corner and froze in mid-air, squinting.

Pale faces. Pale eyes. Glistening, ivory statues of several Azarathian prophets stood around a granite tomb in eternal stone. Some held their rocky fingers in meditative poses. Others held artifacts and leathery scraps that may once have been book covers.

Raven slowly, slowly waved the Amulet up, down, and side to side.

In fish-bowl luminance, the four stone figures cast five shadows-

"Wait..." Raven aimed the Amulet to the left.

-one sage was missing it's upper body. A sobbing sound, and the torso appeared just as a figure in the deepest of deep **_Black_** stopped clinging to it. She glanced at Raven, two soul-deep optics blinking, and she soared away in an exploding sea of dust. **_FWOOOOOOSH!_**

"Nnnngh!-Blast it!" Raven hissed, nearly spinning from the proximity of the fleeing figure. "Just the thing I need!" She murmured a spell beneath her lips and flung her fist forward. **_FLASH!_** A talon of dark energy scooped up a chunk of shadows, but caught nothing but soot. The sorceress ran, leapt, and soared down the dark corridor after the target. She stretched the Amulet straight ahead, like a ship's mast, and shone a pale light through the intestinal stone pathways. A parting sea of dust stretched ahead of her, and upon the crest of the flight—its heels barely registering at the edge of the Amulet's glow—was a pair of scampering **_black_** feet.

"Come on.. ...Don't make this hard. Don't make this-" Raven grunted as the disturbed dust flanked left. She veered to the side, adjusting course—then again, and again—jerking left and right as her levitation became a full speed missile, narrowing down on the elusive, panicked soul.

Then—after a long stretch of crumbling effigies—a thin and claustrophobic corridor yawned open into a wood-reinforced basement. Raven slowed to a hover, realizing that with the distance traveled underneath Azarath—she had ended up in the infirmary's morgue. She stared left and right, eyeing the many wooden benches, the leather body satchels, the empty brick crematorium, and the shattered medicine cabinets. Several dozen agonizing chemicals assaulted her at once, their smell far too stagnant for a cesspool of agents several centuries out of use.

There was only two ways into this place. The first was the labyrinthal corridor that brought them there-

_**FLASH!**_ Without a second thought, Raven stretched a telekinetic talon back behind her shoulder and 'punched' the tunnel entrance, forcing it to collapse shut against the morgue.

And the second way to get into this place was a basement hatch door... ... ...a door which Raven had sealed a long, long time ago. A door which only Raven could open.

But _**Black**_...

"Show yourself." Raven droned, marching forward on her bony legs and feet. The passing of age in Azarath was slow, but not without evidence. The girl's jagged joints were in the slow process of ironing out into curves. But with most of her days spent in studying, and not so much in exercising, she had little muscle to accompany the icy metamorphosis. "The longer you hide, the more you delay the inevitable."

_Cl-Clatter..._

"... ... ..." Raven turned. She squinted at the crematorium. Slowly, she hovered towards the half-domed entrance, leaning forward to stare at the brick work, the tiny cracks and fissures, the dust strings and spiderwebs-

"_**GO AWAY!.!.!.!"**_ A phantasmic, screaming face lurched out at her.

"Hnnkkt!" Raven jolted, stumbling back and nearly falling on her rear. She juggled to keep the Amulet in her grasp, her teeth gritting-

_**CL-CL-CLAK!**_ The **_black_** shadow skittered inhumanly over the wall, the ceiling, the collapsed door—tugged and shoved at the collapsed boulders—howled-and skittered, skittered, skittered over Raven's head until it leapt down through a crashing wooden bench, knocked over a table, and hid in front of a rattling medicine cabinet. There, _**Black **_sat, hugging its knees to its chest, rocking back and forth with twin bloodshot eyes palely twitching against the ivory kiss of the Amulet of Metreon.

Raven waved the said glowing object from side to side as she sauntered over towards the trembling doppelganger. "You know as well as I do that I can't go away. I'm here for one reason alone, and that's to consume you. So, let's not waste any time-"

"_**NO! N-N-NO!**_" Clattering dragon teeth. A sweat that made **_Black_**'s skin look like dark pearls under a mucousy sack. _**"I d-do not want to l-lose my legs! I can move! I can run! Inside you—I'll be stuck! W-We'll be st-stuck together! I don't want it! I don't want it! I don't want it!"**_

"The reason I need you inside me is so someone can _watch over you!"_ Raven grumbled, trying to be intimidating in spite of her petite self. "If I leave you alone, you'll just run amok and cause all sorts of trouble. Neither of us can have that-"

"_**It d-doesn't matter! I have t-t-to keep moving! It's the only way! Y-Y-Yes!"**_ **_Black_** trembled and clasped her palpitating forehead. _**"H-He will find us if we stay together! T-To even the odds w-w-we must split up! Stay apart! Strength in numbers-"**_

"You know as much as I do that this is not all about strength." Raven sneered. "This is about perserverence. We're up against something that neither of us have a chance of overpowering. So long as we _acknowledge_ that fact, then with patience and faithfulness to the teachings of Azar, we might-"

"_**Might? MIGHT?"**_ **_Black_** shrieked. _**"You have no clue! You're stronger without me! That g-gives you an edge! You don't n-need me! Please...l-leave me alone-"**_

Raven grumbled. She reached a hand up and rubbed her aching temple.

"_**I only promise doom and despair! You can do better w-without me!"**_

"You were wrong, Lavender... ..." Raven murmured quietly to herself. "There is only one thing she will listen to..."

_**"I don't want to be b-bound up! I don't want to be chained to your soul self as an offering to him-!"**_

"**LOOK!" **Raven shouted, her eyes flaring briefly as the Amulet glowed brighter.

_**Black**_ gasped-

Raven trudged forward, each bootstep a menacing thunder. "I know your fate. I know hao you're gonna end up. Oh no—You're not going to die, but you'll wish you could. Because no matter what you do, no matter what you tell yourself at night, no matter hao long the days may seem to go—happy or not—as you count away the hours until the inevitable-" She tossed aside a table. _**CRASH!**_

_**Black**_ scooted backwards, crabwalking on trembling hands.

Raven hissed: "-the truth of the matter is that YOU are doomed! He WILL come after you! He WILL find you! Just like I am finding you! And like it or not—this is happening. This Hell, this nightmare, this torture—live in the moment, you pathetic worthless waste of spirit!" She loomed over _**Black**_, her white cape billowing like the righteous flame of an angel of damnation. "Live in this forever destruction of the nao and embrace your despair!"

"_**No... ..."**_ **_Black_** gasped. _**Black**_ struggled. **_Black_** fought and tugged and kicked and pushed as Raven lifted the scrawny thing to her face. _**"No-No-No-No-PLEASE-NOOOOOO!"**_ A banshee scream, ear-splitting, as Raven was upon her, and their chakra stones made contact-

_**FLASSSSSSSH!**_

The morgue lit up. The Amulet of Metreon levitated, glowed, spiraled, and fell to the ground with a naked clattering...

...and in the spinning strobe of its weighted aura, Raven was suddenly deflated. Her eyes were wide, her irises dilated to stabbing pinpricks, as she suddenly fell over into the dust, clutching herself in a fetal position. Tears were brimming out of unblinking optics as she stared into the great beyond.

"Father... ...Father... ..." Her entire face grimaced like she was giving birth to the demon that she was. "Please... ...Please don't... ...I-I don't want to be this... ...Mommy...Mommy, I don't want to be this... ..." She huddled over and sobbed into her trembling hands. "Dear Azar.. ...please... ... ...I beg you... ...I don't want to be this... ...I-I don't want to be this...I-I don't... ...I don't..."

The morgue dimmed around her, the luminescent smell placed upon the Amulet slowly dying, as the sobbing little sorceress was plunged into darkness, the great black covering her quietly, somberly, like a funeral shroud.

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(Two Hundred and Twenty-Two Years Ago)**

"**_She said WHAT to you?"_** **Lavender** gasped, looking mortified.

Young Raven pouted, sighed, and sat up from where she was lying her head in the softly colored girl's lap. "She said that I had the intellectual prowess of a horsefly..."

"_**Hao oh so terribly rude!"**_

"And then she proceeded to eliminate my queen with her last moved pawn-" The child's eyes narrowed as she squinted angrily towards the dim reaches of the abandoned city. "-just like she somehao managed to do the last five times in a row."

"_**Do you suppose that she is doing it on purpose?"**_

"Nnngh..." Raven stood up and paced across a closed-in garden of Upper Azarath. "I wouldn't put it past her. I mean—She has a goal in everything she does. She's trying to teach me something, I know it. But I can't imagine it's something metaphoric or poetically significant. It just isn't her style. She's all about storing information and dishing it back out. She's a scribe, not an artist."

"_**I think it's a good thing that you haven't consumed her yet."**_ **Lavender** smiled, leaning her chin forward on a petite forearm. _**"She's driving you to exert yourself. Not that you're needing of any extraordinary prodding. But it's solacing to have such engaging activities to turn to at a moment's notice—Don't you agree?"**_

Raven sighed, hugging herself. She hovered there for a few seconds, before running a hand through her long blue hand and twirling about. "I think it's something else."

"_**Oh?"**_

"Something worse."

"_**Uh oh... ..."**_

Raven padded over, clutching her far shoulder and gazing at the emaciated garden floor. "It's nice having her around to help hone my talents of logic and intellectualism... ... ...But our regular daily chessgames have become something of a r-ritual."

"_**Routine can be very comforting."**_ **Lavender** smiled assuredly. _**"Especially when one must fill one's schedule with a regiment to compensate for the solitude."**_

"It's not all about routine. It's... ..." Raven clenched her eyes shut, grimaced, and released her turmoil with a sigh. "I may not have consumed **Yellow**, but I'm not stupid. I know what this is all about... ..." She brushed a stray strand of blue hair over her ear and looked forlornly up at her. "I know what **you** are all about."

**Lavender** watched, smiling patiently, her hands planted in her lap.

Raven paced slowly over. "You are parts of me—Or, that is—parts of future me. This world... ...this sacred City that was left to me, it's to become not just a training ground... ... ...but a sancutary. It is something that I must make a part of myself... ...my _soul self_. And those who 'dwell' within... ... ...Well.. ... ...They're not just mere shadows. They are the things that must live in this _soul self_ that I will carry with me, so that when the day finally comes that I will reenter the mortal plane, I will have every resource at my disposal for when... ..." She gulped. "...for when I will have to combat _**him**_."

"_**As always—You are most comprehensive in your assessment."**_

"And you... ..." Raven pointed. "I know who you are. And, as a result, I know why I keep coming to you." She took a deep breath. "I am... ...I am very addicted to _**compassion**_."

"_**Why do you suppose that is?"**_

"It's something that I've always longed for... ..." Raven clutched at her white robe and stared sadly towards the floor. "... ...something that I felt was missing in my life. After all, it's so very easy to think yourself into a hole when... ...wh-when you're alone... ..."

"_**Ohhhh..."**_ **Lavender** cooed. She stood up and gently sashayed over to her neutral mirror and placed her hands gently on Raven's shoulders. _**"You are only as alone as you wish to think."**_

"Don't I know that...?" Raven murmured, trembling. "All these days I've come to visit you.. ... ...All those chess games I've had with **Yellow**... ... ..." Her eyes narrowed. "It's because I've taken what I know to be an accessory to growth and turned it into a crutch of dependence! I am too infatuated with the sensation of having company that I am not willing to make the necessary step towards maturity.. ... ..." Her eyes fell softly to the side. "... ...a step that means whittling away this colorless City to the bone, so that it's infinitely times as bare as it's ever been."

"_**Darling..."**_ **Lavender** lowered her head and forced the little girl to stare eye-to-baby-blue-eye. _**"Refining and reinventing yourself makes you anything but colorless. Do you not see that?" **_She smiled. **_"You may lose us in shape, yes—but you will make up for that in form, as you yourself become infinitely times stronger than you already magnificently are! And to what extent? I will tell you to what extent—A time will come when you leave this spiritual vacuole in the cosmos; and when you do, you may be surprised to find that the talents densely packed within yourself will be exercised among true souls—true souls from the outside. Nao, doesn't that sound charming?"_**

"Mmmmm..." Raven groaned. "That sounds pathetic and unlikely."

**Lavender** giggled. **_"Spoken like true Black. Hao is the pursuit of her going, by the way?"_**

"I... ...uhm... ...h-haven't been trying nearly as hard lately..."

"_**I think I know the necessary ingredient. Hao about you?"**_

Raven almost whimpered as she meekly clutched at **Lavender**'s robe. "But... ...B-Both you and I know what that means..."

"_**Yes. We do. And we also know..."**_ She stroked Raven's chin. **_"... ...that I will always be with you, precious. Even in the dimmest and darkest shadow of Him, I will be inside you. And, perhaps one day, you will be gracious enough to share me with others—as I have happy, and blessed, to have made myself company to you."_**

"... ... ..." Raven smiled, a single tear rolling down. Her lips quivered as she clasped both of _**Lavender's**_ hands. "With you consumed..." She briefly choked. "... ... ...there will be no turning back. I will be moving faster than even the scribes prophecied of me. Than even my... ...m-my mother..."

"_**And if you know your mother, then you'll realized she wanted you to do this. And she would also know, that you will have the capacity... ...To forgive her."**_

"With you.. ...I can believe that."

"_**Hmm-hmm-hmm..."**_ **Lavender** smiled. _**"That is the most important thing, child. Belief—Hold onto that."**_

"I-I will... ...I promise..."

"_**You need not promise something which you have already mastered."**_ And with that, **Lavender** leaned forward and softly, lovingly kissed Raven's forehead...

...right on the Chakra stone.

_**FLASSSSSSH!**_

Raven gasped, eyes shut, as she leaned her head back and weathered an invisible wind. Her white robe kicked and fluttered in the quiet maelstrom. And soon, she stood alone...hovered alone... ... ...levitated alone...

Clutching herself as the garden slowly spun around her...

With tears, warm, like a halo of laughter.

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(Two Hundred and Thirty Years Ago)**

The pitter-patter of young Raven's feet echoed throughout the cosmic expanse that engulfed the vacant City of once-Azarath. Her shuffling form stood out like an ivory dust mite against the back of a great grey shell, a white dot upon a polished onyx dish.

Still not solaced by the reality of her perpetual solitude, the petite girl clutched pensively to the folds of her snowy robe, her violet eyes dancing back and forth to nervously inspect every shadowy niche and darklit alcove flanking her quiet steps. With each abandoned block that she traversed, the City yawned open more and more, as if willing to unfold a plethora of secrets to her.

She knew that she was looking for something. She knew that she had many a thing to find in this personal life-long 'scavenger hunt' of hers. But with no directions, no incentive, no obligatory impetus to move her in a specific direction—she found most of her quiet days filled with this pathetic wandering. It helped very little that the very architecture of Azarath was cyclical in nature; try as she might to section off the sacred metropolis into quadrants, she always found herself stumbling over paths that she had already tread. She had assumed that by simple exposure—in its dull repetition—she would automatically memorize the sights and sounds about her. But this was not the case.

Raven's mind was a blank slate—a canvass upon which to weave all the colors imaginable. But for all of the malleable horizons bubbling before the fringes of her soul self, she could not so much as carve an initial, spark a fire, or chisel a scar. She needed to find her bearings, she needed to find a fulcrum upon which to hinge her talents—whatever they may have been.

She needed to _get smart_.

So it was that the lone child of destiny stopped once more by one of the few landmarks that she could recognize—barely a stone's throw from the high rise apartment she had hollowed out for herself. It was a courtyard, and in the center of which there stood a cylindrical stone fountain. The thing was empty of water, but a few bare leaves—petrified with age—littered the smooth curved basin. Cobblestones stretched around the structure, hugging the haunted space that hung between building fronts.

Within the sphere of insignificance, haoever, three things stood out. One of them was a dimly glowing _mark_ that plastered the side of the fountain. The second was a chess board, balanced on the fountain's edge, ornamented with black and white chesspieces. The third... ...was a girl in a **Yellow** hood and robe, identical in age to Raven, save for a gleaming pair of spectacles that adorned her petite nose as she stood side-saddle on the edge of the fountain and murmured over the pages of an ancient tome towards the approaching loner:

"_**'Consider your origin; you were not born to live like brutes, but to follow virtue and knowledge'."**_

"Erm.. ..." Raven bit her lip and shifted nervously. "I-I beg your pardon...?"

"_**Dante. Canto Twenty-Six of the Divine Comedy.**_**"** **Yellow** slapped the book closed. _Thap!_ She stared boredly at the little girl, a mirror to her amber self, and adjusted the rim of her glasses. **"In an abyss such as this, surely it can be nothing but hope that brings you to me."**

"I... ...I'm not sure exactly what _you_ are supposed to represent." Raven murmured.

"_**I rest my case."**_ **Yellow** sighed, re-crossed her legs and gestured with a dainty hand. _**"I find it positively confounding—That we have been trained so securely in emotional governance, spiritual reinforcement, and mystical attunement—That so little attention has been given to a proper and elemental tutelage."**_

"Uhm... ..." Raven squinted curiously. "You sure you're not supposed to be _**Orange**_?"

"_**Yes."**_ The amber one glared. **_"I am most assuredly not orange."_**

"Because I've been looking all over, and I can't find her. And I figured she was the easiest to... ...erm... ...'absorb'... ...and so far I haven't-"

"_**So it is the easiest path that most properly appeals to you?"**_

"I-I didn't mean to suggest—"

"_**Do you know chess?"**_

"Pardon?"

**Yellow** gestured towards the monochromatic board on the fountain beside her. _**"Originated out of the Subcontinent in the Seventh Century. Introduced to Europe in the middle of the Dark Ages. Modernized by Mediterranean rulemakers by the arrival of the thirteenth century. With the Renaissance came the glorification of the Queen...or Mad Queen, if you prefer."**_ She straightened a few pawns and rooks into their respective places. **_"It's truly fascinating hao something so simple can yield forth a plethora of strategic operations, to which the only element of surprise is human error. Would you care to play...?"_**

"I...h-have watched a few elder s-sages play it..." Raven murmured and shuffled over towards the fountain side. "But I was never keen on trying it myself. I figured that I would be thoroughly defeated-"

"_**I didn't ask you if you wished to run a barbaric gauntlet."**_ **Yellow** raised an eyebrow. _**"Notice my emphasis on the infinitive 'to play'."**_

"I'm sorry..." Raven bit her lip.

"_**Hmm. So you *have* consumed Gray."** _**Yellow** boredly yawned. _**"And all this time I thought she had tripped and stumbled over her own tears."**_

"Is all of this r-really necessary?"

"_**Please."**_ Thin, disgusted, golden eyes. **_"You think I would have invested all of my wits and knowledge in this form if it all came down to you waltzing over and colliding your skull against mine like some sort of plebeian ritual of animalistic bloodlust? I am worth more than that. And, as a matter of fact, so are you."_**

"I...I-I get the feeling that if I spend so much as a _minute_ with you, I'm going to come out feeling like I should have just jumped into the great abyss."

"_**Hardly the attitude befitting the one avatar and savior of our spiritually doomed world."**_ **Yellow** droned, motioning once more. _**"Have a seat. You may make the first move. It is only fitting for you to stretch your legs into the great estuary of strategic awakening, to put it poetically."**_

Raven sighed and sat down across from **Yellow** before the board. "I don't see what the point is. You are obviously very good at this."

"_**'He listens well who takes notes.'"**_

Raven blinked.

The spectacled one gestured, a tiniest hint of a smirk: _**"Canto Fourteen, Line Ninety-Nine."**_

"Should I also be reading this thing you're quoting?"

"_**I don't see why not. Though I fear it would forever blemish your concept of what 'Comedy' means."**_

"I don't see what concern that will be to me..." Raven muttered, squinting at the various white pieces before her. "I'll never meet someone who'll make me laugh."

"_**I wouldn't be so sure of that."**_

"No?" Raven blinked up.

_**Yellow**_ pointed. "Simply move."

"... ... ..." Raven stared back down. She sighed. Her dainty hand hovered down, fumbled in mid-air for a bit, then reached for a pawn. "... ... ...I could be spending this time training to tackle **Green**..." She placed the pawn one naked square forward.

"_**Hmm... ...King's safety first. Of course you'll move the pawn."**_

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"**_You will see."_** **Yellow** winked briefly before sinking into a visible hunch of thought. **_"Give it time. Plenty and plenty of time..."_**

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(****Two Hundred and Forty-Two Years Ago****)**

"..."

She sniffed.

She clutched her knees to her chest, sitting in a tiny, concrete alcove built into the side of a gigantic temple wall.

"..."

Another sniffle. An eight-year old Raven raised her tear-stained face towards the cosmos.

"..."

The sight of the old Azarathian Infirmary stood like an abandoned volcano against the black enormity of the void beyond. It was abandoned—just like all of Azarath was abandoned. Just like the streets were empty, infinitely echoing the pattering of Raven's feet as she endlessly walked them every morning, every afternoon, and every evening.

She ate breakfast alone in Azarath. She slept alone in Azarath. She meditated, read the books of magic, bathed, and sobbed—alone—in Azarath.

Her Azarath...or it had been nobody else's but hers for as long as she could remember.

And for as long as she could remember, in the wake of them—in the wake of _her—_Raven's Azarath brought her to tears.

She sniffed, stood up on wobbly-but-brave legs, and faced the entrance of the stone-cold infirmary.

_No more..._

She knew what the books had told her. Once she invested the appropriate time and effort to peruse them, she realized what she was left to do there in Azarath, alone. The infirmary had a marking on its entrance. She knew it. She had memorized the emblem like all others from walking the streets over the last several decades, alone.

_It is nao or never..._

_There is no better place to start..._

Raven took a deep, shuddering breath. She reached deep into her robes and produced a familiar, ruby jewel. In her small, trembling hands—the thing weighed an absolute ton.

_The Amulet of Metreon_.

She stared at it, but not for too long—Something about her sad eyes danced in four places against the refracting surface. Pocketing the amulet away, almost slouching from its weight, she made her move. Her long, blue hair fluttered in the breeze and her white cloak trailed behind her as she marched up the last few steps towards the infirmary.

The vast emptiness of Azarath—the dead City—echoed with her tiny steps. The echoes soon grew in significance as she stepped inside the large, marble structure—surrounded by shadows and dust. Old alchemy equipment and hospital beds lay dormant and untouched around her. There was a reason why she had refused to step inside this branded building for so long, and it was the same reason she refused to step into the other _branded_ structures...

...she wasn't entirely sure she was ready to stop being 'alone'.

"..." Raven peered around. "...where are you?" She strongly addressed the shadows.

Silence.

The girl's violet eyes narrowed. A blink. She then corrected herself: "Where am **I**?"

Silence...

Then...

"_**You are still too early…"**_

Raven jumped with a start. She looked around for the voice. The voice..._her voice..._

"_**...you are not r-ready. Even if you were, you would abandon me…L-Like they abandoned you..."**_

"I can't do that!" The little girl bravely said. She clenched her tiny fists for good measure and took a few, shaking steps forward. "I have n-no choice..."

The voice came from a faint, faint gray shape in the far-darkest corner of the hospital. Wilted. _Gray_. _**"Ch-Choice? The only choice is to say goodbye. The only answer is to not have any answers..."**_

"Why do you h-hide from me?" Raven gulped and squinted into the shadows at the gray figure. "I can help you."

"_**What...is the p-point? You are no b-better off than I am..."**_

"If I had a ch-chance to learn from you..." Raven bit her lip. "...to learn from myself—Then maybe it won't matter anymore."

"_**No...No matter...No point...Just leave me to die..."**_

Raven managed a sudden frown. "I thought you were supposed to be 'Sorrow'. Not 'cowardice'—"

_**FWOOOOOOSH!**_ The **Gray** thing skittered out of the shadows like a spider, leapt, and clamped her arms over Raven's shoulders with vicelike iciness. A Gray face with Gray hair and Gray eyes opened her mouth into an impossibly large wail..._wail_..._**wail**_: _**"I am that which remains after there is nothing left to burn!"**_

"NNNNGH!" Raven twitched and her eyes _instantly_ exploded into tears.

"_**I am the refuse of this City!"**_ The Gray ghost of Raven shrieked, sobbed, phased in and out and exhaled a sorrowful mist into the white-leotard'd child's frame. _**"I am the ashes, the dust of misery. If you take me in, I will weigh you down!"**_

"N-Not...nnngh...if I can _understand_ you!" Raven wrestled to get an upper grip on the phantom. The two struggled and wrestled in the dusty center of the darklit hospital. "Together...and w-with control...W-We could become strong enough...T-To face our father!"

"_**And what good is it to worry over him?"**_ Frigid tears formed cracks in the ghost's face. She was quickly beginning to disintegrate as she woefully screamed: _**"It was MOTHER who abandoned us!"**_

"Nnnngh—"

"_**Yes. She did! Her love ran out!"**_

"She... ... ...She n-never...st-stopped loving us!"

"_**Then why?"**_ Gray sobbed. _**"Why did she **__**leave**__**us**__**? To see if we could cry?"**_

"...yes..." Raven panted. "Yes..." She frowned. She glared at Gray, and **four** red spots flickered in her eyes. "...and to see if we could **scream."**

Gray recoiled in fear—

But it was too late. Raven grabbed her face and planted their foreheads together.

"I am not giving you a **choice**." Again, the four red eyes. "You are **mine**."

Their chakras made contact—_**FLASSSSSSH**_

"AAAAUGH!" Raven screamed. She sobbed, she wailed, she wanted to crawl into a hole and turn to stone, she wanted to kill herself, she wanted to stab her eyes and tongue out and sit in the deepest abyss for eternity—All of these things, as Gray flew into her like a billowing breath of soot—and soon only one Chosen Daughter stood in the center of the hospital, wailing. _**"AAAA-HAAAAAAAUGH!"**_

**SLAM! SL-SL-SLAM!** Magically, the windows to the thundering place flew open. The brightness was blinding. Raven, charged with sorrow and madness, stumbled blindly to her left and fell out such a window and into an endless void below.

"NO—"

She commanded to the air...and everything stopped.

"..." She blinked her drying eyes. She glanced down beyond her feet, and gasped.

She was floating...levitating...

_No…_...

Raven was **flying**.

"..."

The lone citizen of Azarath looked at her shaking hands. Colors of gray and white flickered, fluctuated, and came to rest inside of her. And for the first time, the girl became aware of a color she had never comprehended before.

And she giggled...

And she held herself...

And a warmth came over her as new tears came...

Tears she hadn't felt before—Or at least in ages...

Raven laughed. Raven cried. Raven flew, twirled, and hovered over the once distant-spires of Azarath. The lone, shadowed, and heartless streets of the abandoned City seemed so far beneath her nao. And as she came to a stop upon the spire of Sanctuary Point—in the Center—where it all began, where _she_ began...she found a voice talking to herself, and realized it was her own, and it was honest.

"It's really not so bad to be angry at you."

She knew whom she was talking to. And somehow, she knew that it was expected. She rubbed her cheeks and sat, basking in the euphoria of realization, for many a good, cosmic hour under the stars. Even the Amulet—as bright and heavy as ever—felt worlds lighter in her robe's pouch.

Raven didn't have another sad thought for weeks.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Two Hundred and Fifty-Nine Years Ago)**

"M-Mom? Wh-What's happening?" Six-year old Raven clung to her mother. "Wh-Where are we going? I'm sc-scared!"

Arella Roth maintained her composure, despite the sheen of sweat on her flushed brow. She held Raven protectively in her hands while she ran through the quaking streets of Azarath. Flanked by darkly robed acolytes and guardsmen with staves, the dark-haired matron fled a straight line towards the center spire of the giant, floating City.

A horrifying roar rang through the marble forest of temples and towers above them. The cobblestones shook, rattled. The windows cracked and clattered loosely in disintegrating frames on either side of the rushing procession. A crimson frost fogged over reflective surfaces, twitching like tongues of fire with each progressive howl chasing the Azarathians' footsteps.

"Have no fear, my child," Arella clutched Raven closer as she and her group of protectors scaled a series of steps and proceeded up a level towards a bridge that led to the center Temple. "He will not harm you."

"But who is he, mother?" The child had long blue hair—down to her shoulders. A white robe dangled from her petite form. She gazed fearfuly with soft violet eyes at the fringes of the City. A small breath left her. The edges of Azarath were on fire. Droves of soldiers, knights, and acolytes stood in line, fighting against leaping flickering _**red**_ things...things that tore at them...things that howled and screamed and made more _**red...**_

And beyond the tumult and brimstone...

The crimson shadow of Someone—an obelisk against the smoking horizon—marched ever undauntingly towards them—towards _**her**_. Roaring.

"...daddy?"

Four red eyes. _**FOUR**__**—**_

"Raven-!" Arella forced her daughter to look her in the face. "Remember the meditation I taught you?"

"Yes, Mommy." The girl cleared her throat. "Azarath Metreon Z—"

Arella held a hand over her lips. "Save it, child. You will need it. You will need it far more nao than ever before."

"B-But why, Mommy? Where are we going?" She looked around. She saw hundreds—_no_—thousands of citizens leaving their homes, grabbing armfuls of relics, magical heirlooms. It was an evacuation...an exodus...all of Azarath was emptying upon the burning fringe of...

_**...Him.**_

"Lady Arella!" A phalanx of knights charged up and joined the flight of the acolytes. "Praise the Archives, you are safe!"

"We must get my daughter to Sanctuary Point." Arella exclaimed breathlessly. "Did you bring _it?_"

"We did, my lady." The foremost officer produced a blue container from beneath his cloak of armor. "A great many of the Elders fell, but they managed to deliver this to me before the demons consumed them."

Arella took the container and cradled it along with little Raven. "I will never forget your bravery, Jonas. My family is forever indebted to you..."

The soldier Jonas bowed. "We pledge our lives to the safety of the Chosen Daughter. Proceed to Sanctuary Point without fear, milady. We will set up an impregnable defense outside the Temple."

Arella's lips pursed. A glint of the red holocaust beyond glinted off briefly panicked eyes as she otherwise calmly inquired: "Paladin. What news of Paladin—have you seen him?"

"No, milady. The last any of my soldiers heard, he had gone to assist the forward defenses."

"He will survive, I have faith in that." Arella murmured, still as stone, gazing off into the graveyard gray buildings of her most recent homeland. "Our City shall forever be indebted to the Angel Spears." A sharp breath, and she returned to the tumult at hand. "Jonas, we shall meet once more—All of us—In Mortuana."

"In Mortuana, my lady," Jonas smiled. He turned toward his men and shouted: "DEFENDERS OF AZARATH! PROTECT THE CHOSEN DAUGHTER AND HER ACOLYTES! TONIGHT, WE FACE THE RED ONE, FEARLESS AND FAITHFUL!"

They shouted, wielded gleaming swords and spears—And formed a thick line of armor and enchanted weaponry around the center obelisk...towards which Arella and her fellow priestesses were nao ascending.

"M-Mother? Wh-Where's Paladin? And are we really going to Mortuana?" Raven stammered as they crossed the bridge and entered the Temple. "B-But what about our home? What about Azarath?"

"It shall remain your home, dear..." Arella carried her into the center of the domed interior and placed her down onto a cylindrical platform. "...and it shall be your haven..." She spun about, chanted a spell, and lit a round circle of candles while her fellow acolytes slammed shut a series of large, wooden doors. "...until you are ready to take that very same haven _with_ you."

"But mother!" Raven wrung her tiny hands and bit her lip. "I-I don't understand...What do you mean—?"

"Shhh! Dear, your mother must concentrate..." Arella held a hand over the container, and murmured: _"Binaltha Fembrion Trigassonor. Metreon, Metreon Trigass..."_

_**VSHHHH!**_ A shimmering black glow ensnared the container. It opened from the inside out with a _**click.**_

"Stand here with me, Raven."

"But—"

"And clear your thoughts." Arella draped one arm around the girl's arm and knelt behind her. Violent, howling thunder echoed against the walls of the domed Sanctuary around them as Azarath fell to the Red one. With graceful hands, Arella removed a red Amulet from the container. "Peace...Tranquility, my child..." She held the Amulet close to her daughter's forehead.

Raven didn't have time to flinch—_**FWOOOSH!**_—a bolt of dark soul-self danced from her chakra stone and enveloped the amulet. The little one gasped as the jewel shimmered with a bright, white purity.

"I summon the spirit of Metreon from this Amulet." Arella murmured. "May the fusion of Azarath and the teachings of Zinthos bring me wisdom, insight, and courage. Take me to where I may converse with the one Promise of our People."

_**FLASSSSSSSSH!**_

The white purity pulsated, and a strong voice came forth from it: _**"My people, my destiny, and salvation from the warnings of the dire prophecies."**_

Arella's face was firm and unfloundering. She spoke to the amulet. "You are as endless as you are beautiful. I am as sorrowful as I am proud. Together, we are an immaculate tragedy, but not for eternity."

The amulet spoke back: _**"You? You would speak to me?"**_

"Only by your grace." Arella hugged her arm around Raven tighter. "Only by your power."

Raven looked confusedly up at her mother.

"_**And I give it."**_

"You are strong." Arella told the Amulet, its red surface reflecting the six year old's precious face. "You are balanced. You have control over your emotions."

"_**Control over enough. Balance over more. Strength where it permits. As your people have permitted."**_

"And we give it." Arella said, surrounded by the guarding shadows of her people.

The doors shook on their hinges.

The howling _**Red**_ came closer...closer...

"And we are grateful. You are our last hope, and our finest treasure."

"_**She will be alone."**_

Arella's fingers gently stroked Raven's shoulder. "She will be alone."

"_**She will hate you."**_

The lady closed her eyes. "She will hate me..."

"_**She will love you, all the more."**_

A deep breath. The lady's eyes reopened, hard as stone. "As she is loved. For this sake, I bestow a gift to aid her in the next journey."

"_**I will take that which you wisely give."**_

"It is not mine to give, but hers to find…"

"M-Mother...?" Raven murmured.

Arella went on: "This Amulet shall garner its strength from her energies, from her growth, from her powers accumulated over the years."

"Mother...a-are...are you l-leaving me?" The girl quivered.

The lady went on, steadfast: "Trust in it, and it will take you to where you need to go."

"_**And will she ever find you again?" **_

"She just has."

_**VROMMMMMM!**_ The amulet flickered brightly, lowered, and fell to the ground—

_Snatch!_ Arella caught it. She planted it firmly into Raven's hand.

"My daughter. The love of my life." Arella spoke to her. "Be strong."

"Mommy-!"

She caressed her face, stepped backwards off the platform, and joined the circle of acolytes.

"...have faith."

"Mommy! No!—" Raven ran forward—_**FLASH!**_—A blue shield of magic stopped her. She struck her fist repeatedly against it, but was stuck on the platform. "D-Don't leave me! Please!"

"Azarath is yours, my daughter." She said. She shut her eyes. "It _is_ **you**." She corrected.

"No! I want to be with you! D-Don't go!" Tears streamed down Raven's eyes. "I'm not strong enough to be alone!"

"You will be-" Arella's voice was cut off because—

_**POWWWW!**_

The wooden doors flew in.

Flame and howling.

Demon eyes.

Tongues and cackles of fire.

And four **red** eyes—beyond...stomping, marching, roaring—_**Reaching in.**_

_**RED**_.

"MOMMY—"

"**AZARATH—Metreon—ZINTHOS!**_" _The acolytes shouted in unison.

And just as the eyes and flames leapt on them—They vanished, everything vanished—In a blue cyclonic fit of magic and purity.

_**FW-FW-FW-FW-FW-FWOOOOOSH!**_

Raven couldn't hear her own screams.

Then—in a flash—everything was gone, in that nothing was gone, only empty.

The Sanctuary was still.

The outside world was calm.

"... ... ...M-Mommy?"

Raven stammered, assaulted by the lonely echoes of her voice against the infinite silence. Her tiny feet pattered as she scampered off the platform, out of the room, and into the outer void of the City.

She was alone.

Azarath was alone.

And empty.

Everyone was gone.

The acolytes, the knights, Paladin, the flames and the invading **red...**

In place of the familiar golden glow of the Nether was a dark, shimmering void of magical cosmos.

"MOMMY!" Raven shrieked, falling to her knees and dropping the rattling amulet to the cobblestone before her—echoing—as her tears and sobs echoed into that new, frightening night. She brought her hands to her small face and wailed...wailed...wailed...

Nobody heard her: The Chosen Daughter. The only girl..

The only soul...

Of Azarath.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 23, 2005...Today)**

Raven had long lost the feel of the extra soul—so deep was she in reflection, that she hadn't even realized hao deeply she had plunged until at some point through the Sixth Suite, there alighted Robin's voice over the communicator:

"_Snkkt—Cyborg! Robin here! We've got trouble!"_

The half-android sidestage grumbled and uttered: "Cyborg here. What gives-?"

"_We have an attacker! Somewhere in the building!"_

Raven's heart jumped. Her eyes darted about. A fear of neglect and irresponsibility briefly assaulted the girl who did not do fear. She scanned the room with her soul self, wondering—_yet deeply hoping against it_.

"Surely it isn't **him**..." She murmured aloud from the shadows. "An _attacker?_" There must be-

There. She felt the soul again. But it was distant, nao, still recognizable in its texture but faint in its proximity. There emerged—throttlingly hot—a new and present danger, blazing white within the immediacy of her folding soul self.

"Front in center!" Raven said before she thought twice about it, her finger pointing towards the navel of the audience. Half a breath later, a golden orb of light was sailing down—murderously fast—towards Kensuke Kobayashi.

"_Dammit—NO!"_ Cyborg leapt from the stage, his body searing the air like a sword.

Raven paid no heed. Calmly, with a breath like ice, she narrowed her eyes towards the slow motion calamity, flexed her fingers forth, and concentrated...concentrated... ...

Meditated...


	15. Suites part 6 final

_(Several Weeks Ago...)_

_The white world blurred as it spun before his tears. He gasped, sputtered for breath—but finally managed to retract his flailing limbs into his chest at the last second. It was just in time too—for the spinning stopped, and Robin was colliding mercilessly with the forest floor. A white spray of crystalline powder—and the resounding thunder deafened him through his helmet._

_The Boy Wonder rolled, rattled, and twirled to a pain-throbbing stop against a log. He exhaled—wheezing-and blinked the world back into focus. A fan of dark black pine trees perforated the gray horizon above him. Snow fell in a lazy drip—cold to the agony aching out of his body through every finger and digit._

_He coughed, struggled to straighten the visor of his helment, and stood up on wobbling knees—his thermally reinforced uniform torn in several places. He scanned the frozen forest left and right, struggling to even his panting breaths, looking for any sign of his attacker._

_The ache in his spine synchronized with his pulse, throbbing continuously, like a bass beat—so that for a brief and absurd blink in comprehension, he was no longer fighting for his life in a snowshrouded forest, but he was moving with her, dancing with her, inhaling the gorgeous presence of her, in a warehouse, surrounded by lights and noise, but anchored to her words, her smile, blond threads and—another blink, and a broad missile sailed through the pine trees at him._

"_HAAAUGH! DINNER'S SERVED, KID! ROBIN ON A STICK!"_

_The splintery, shredded middle-piece of a telephone was being flung down towards him—banging its heavy way through trees—and exploding into a sea of wooden shrapnel towards his prone figure._

_Robin grunted, fired a grappling hook into the forested ceiling, luckily found an anchor, and yanked himself off and over the flying mess of debris-_

_**WHUD!**_

_The sheer proximity of the thrown projectile knocked Robin off balance, so that he plummeted from twenty feet high and fell, flailing ungracefully through the snowy air, and towards a mess of wooden brambles—laced with the victorious laughter of his hideous foe, marching closer-_

"_HAH HAH HAH HAH-"_

_SMASH! _

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 23, 2005...Today)**

Robin blinked.

As the random haze of memory cleared from his head just as swiftly as it had graced him, the Boy Wonder tilted his masked head to the side. Without meaning to, he glared through the air of the Vaughan Concert Hall's backstage.

"... ... ..." A group of hapless stagehands realized that he was looking back. In a throat-clearing breath, they stopped staring at the caped crusader, shuffled off to the far corners of the place, and pretended to be doing something important.

Robin exhaled. He leaned back against a metal support beam and absent-mindedly twirled a metal bo-staff in his grasp. Once more, with studious eyes ever-vigilant, he gazed at the various employees and volunteers of the Concert Hall, at the dozens upon dozens of people maintaining the light show, the sound system, the entire presentation that allowed Madeline Kobayashi to express her talented self musically. He made mental notes as he studied the security team assigned to watch over the interests of Kensuke Kobayashi—most chiefly his daughter. The said men in dark suits and matching shades cast a few odd gazes Robin's way, noting his presence, perhaps not-so-secretly loathing it—as they resumed various necessarily muffled conversations over a secure frequency from ear to ear to ear to ear.

At an obtuse angle, Robin could almost make out the metallic shoulder of Victor Stone—as the protective Cyborg stood much closer to the stage, keeping his human eye on Madeline while his not-so-human eye conducted many a spectral scan on the interior half of the Hall, and its audience-full of occupants.

Victor had explained to Robin—and the rest of the team—the importance of this particular mission. Though he had spent far more time with Robin specifically, both before and after the 'official' briefing—to what purpose, the Boy Wonder could only guess. Robin understood that this was Cyborg's City, Cyborg's team, and Cyborg's close friends—all of which were dependant on the success of this lone and seemingly trifle bodyguarding job. But the incessant need to cover every inch of the scenario with Robin and Robin alone led the Boy Wonder's mind to wonder curiously over the overweighted emphasis of the matter.

It was no secret that Victor Stone leaned a great deal on Robin's talents, as well as his experiences. It was something that Robin had come to expect—having had so much exposure in fighting crime and protecting citizens before. But with Victor, there was more to it. It felt at times like Victor had to prove himself to Robin as much as he had to prove to the City—or to Kensuke Kobayashi for that matter—that this superheroic team had what it took to make an impact on society.

At times, it occurred to Robin that Victor's trust was really a mask for something that the half-android man couldn't come to admit or confess openly; that this was, in actuality, a _dependence_. That would suggest that Cyborg didn't have the leverage to flex his financial and scientific muscle. It also suggested that Victor didn't have the intestinal fortitude to digest the sheer amount of disgusting reality that Robin made a part of his regular diet since the first day he broke noses in Gotham City.

With each passing week, Cyborg's team grew more and more strained, so that it took more and more extenuating circumstances of _luck_ to put the group back together again, instilled with something resembling _hope_. But unlike organizations whom Robin had been a part of in the past, each near-crumbling didn't make the team stronger. Much rather, they felt increasingly more fragile with each subsequent collapse. To that extent, Robin did not possess the same enthusiasm that Victor did over this latest task. Accepting Kensuke Kobayashi's forgiveness was a small, small payment for an investigation that was still going nowhere, for an Underworld that still hadn't shown its ugly head, for a City that still didn't know if it was being blessed—or cursed—by its newest and oddest gaggle of heroes yet.

Even from the furthest corner of the Vaughan Concert Backstage, with a curtain and a cello violinist obscuring reality from him, Robin could sense the shrugging shoulders of his young cohorts, could hear the sighs from their shadowed lungs, could feel the monochromatic aura of confusion and hopelessness from their separated souls. There was a great deal of power and charisma in Victor's team—but it was still missing what made a team so important from the get-go.

It was missing _unity_.

Even Robin was no less guilty of this. Though his eyes and ears were trained on Madeline Kobayashi—his heart and mind weren't. The foul taste of a conspiracy trickled off his tongue. The dark and mysterious words of D-Cube limped off his lobes. And seven pockets from the center, under the cold blue light of a sidestage lantern...

"... ... ..." Robin reached into the satchel of his utility belt and pulled out four things. In his left glove... ... ...a pair of weathered black shades. And in his right glove.. ... ...three playing cards. Random numbers. All hearts.

Robin may not have been in the same spot as the rest of the team. Even if the worst of catastrophes was to break through, and Victor's team fell off the face of the Earth, the Boy Wonder would have his own reasons to stay in Jump City, his own reasons to remain obsessed with a world that nobody else could see... ... ...nobody but Victor, perhaps, but in a darker shade of light.

It was always a darker shade of light for Robin. The only exception.. ... ...the only break from the miasma of _worry_.. ... ...was in another place entirely. Another blink in comprehension—and Robin thought _he could see in the shadowed corner of the place a ghost of a structure, a warehouse, a building among buildings, bleeding light from the inside out, and atop the roof four shimmering letters-_

"Taking up solitaire? Kind of a dick move when your team's supposed to be keeping watch over the blind princess."

Robin snapped out of it. With a sigh, he pocketed the four bizarre objects away in the seventh pocket from the center. He leaned on his bo-staff and gazed boringly towards the female figure marching up. "Hello Cid. Long time no bother."

"Bother... ... ...?" A wry smirk, and a young woman in a brown trenchcoat, a badge, and a blue turtleneck marched up. A pale face immaculately gazed at Robin under a dark bush of Snow White hair, with lips muttering: "I'm not the one dropping sonic bombs onto innocent caravans in the middle of the City."

"If you knew half as much as you thought you did over the reason we're all here, then you'll know that Victor's team is currently attempting to make amends for its previous mistakes."

"That's not what Kneehouse thinks... ..." Detective Amy Cid furtively spotted a refreshment table, snatched a red apple off the side, and chewed a morsel smarkishly before gulping down some fruit and uttering: "If you asked her, she said that you and your superfriends were attempting to ingratiate yourselves to the financial elite of Jump City. Quite frankly, I don't blame her. One day, you're the public nemesis of Kensuke Kobayashi. The next day—you're all suddenly best buds." Another biteful of apple. She tongued the inside of her mouth, and muffled forth: "Mmmff...What's with that, anyways?"

"If you want to know what went on between Victor Stone and Kensuke Kobayashi, that's something you would have to ask him..." Robin muttered. "I wouldn't be of much assistance to you."

"Wouldn't or couldn't?"

Robin glared. "I have nothing to hide."

"Heh! Says the kid in the mask!" Detective Cid chuckled, swallowed another chunk of apple, and leaned against a curtain support beam across from Robin as the cello music swam between them. "Hrmphh...Mmf...Yanno.. ... ... You should be happy I'm not giving you a hard time and crap. Before I was sent here, Kneehouse asked me to try and grill you on just why in the flaming Hell you're all going behind her back and giving Kobayashi a police entourage without—yanno-_an official police entourage."_

"Well, that's much appreciative of you-"

"Isn't it, though?" Another bite. Another swallow. "Thing is... ..last time I checked—and I'm willing to bet last time _you checked_ as well—Jump City was Jump City. And Jump City happens to fall under the jurisdiction of the—dare I say it—Jump City Police Department. And of all the crazy-ass things that have transpired in the last few months since flying lizards attacked our City, the _one thing_ that most certainly has not happened was Commissioner Kneehouse giving you capes an official sanction. I mean—Hell-wouldn't that beat all! That would make what you and Victor and the rest are doing here resemble something akin to an official action, and not like what it really is..."

"And just what is this?"

"A mercenary operation."

"You _really_ stoop to suggesting that?"

"Hey, I'm a detective. I say it like I see it." Cid rotated the half-eaten apple in her grasp. "Though it doesn't really matter what I think, nao does it?"

"I'm certain you're getting at something, Cid. I'm a detective too-"

"Heh. Don't that beat all."

"-and I only see a woman entitled to an opinion that she seems bent on banging over everyone's head."

"**BUZZZ**. Wrong. I just do the entitling. _Kneehouse_ does the banging. And the soonest she realizes that Victor is trying to shake hands with Kobayashi over her, she'll bring down the hammer so hard on your teenage heads that a river of pimples will pop out and bathe half of downtown."

"If this is your way of warning us, it's rather theatrical."

"I know that you're used to the chumps under Gordon's collar in Gotham City bowing before your kind on hands and knees. But you gotta understand the way of things here in Jump City, Boy Wonder. We don't have psychopaths running around trying to turn people into petrified clown-faces with tear gas. Things just _haven't _reached that level of zoological psychosis. And there's a reason for that, yanno. Everything is dealt with _by the books—_And not with costumed whackjobs flinging themselves around by the powers of god-knows-what, unleashing their own brand of technicolor justice. When you try to disorderly enforce order, you only fuel the fires of anarchy bubbling underneath a panicked populace. Why do you think that Metropolis and Keystone nearly have a Crisis every goddam week?"

"Why do you think that Metropolis and Keystone _survive_ a Crisis every week?"

"Heh..." Cid pointed at Robin with a smirk. "Touche." She took another bite, gulped, and murmured forth: "But if ever that shit was to go down in Jump City—_for real—_we'd call in the army. A few elitist badasses in capes? That works only in theory, and seldom ever cleanly too, I might add. That's what Kneehouse believes in. And I would hope, after all these weeks of humoring you kids—on behalf of the City Council—you'd be thoughtful enough to not go around her back and side with a megalomaniac the first moment she has a legit reason to blow up at you."

Robin droned: "I still don't see why you are giving me this opinionated sermon when you could be spending much more productive time dishing it out to Victor's ear."

"A little secret... ...Between you and me...?" Cid smirked and leaned forward slightly, her blue eyes thinning. "Victor couldn't make out a single word said to him if even the Tunguksa Explosion went off in his ear."

"Hao delightfully metaphoric of you."

"Want me to clarify? Good-" Cid gestured towards the back of the curtains. "You think _**I'm**_ opinionated? Victor's on a road to ruin, kid. And he's gonna drag your whole team with you. Things would be different if he just leveled with Kneehouse from time to time, instead of insisting that he's got a righteous incentive with this 'Underworld' crusade of his. Hell, he's shut himself off completely from our Department, for all he cares. Only poor schmuck who bothers to stay attached with him is Decker, and that guy's one foot out the door of his career anyways; he's been like that since being demoted from the Commissioner seat years ago."

"Yes, a pity, that." Robin smiled gently Cid's way. "Just who was that newly promoted detective who wrote that glaring report on Decker's handling of the botched Panama Express sting?"

Cid opened her mouth-but lingered. She fell into a soft grin. "Regardless of what Kneehouse thinks of Victor's team, I gotta say... ..."

"... ...?" Robin cocked his head to the side.

"He's lucky to have an ace up his sleeve. That ace being you..." She pointed. "Though, I wonder if _**you're**_ half as fortunate." She rolled the apple up her forearm, knocked it airborne with her elbow, and caught in a tight palm. "Stay aflight, bird boy. I'm gonna go enjoy the rest of the music..."

She sauntered off, the tails of her trenchcoat flapping in some cold and unseen breeze, leaving the Boy Wonder alone in the trailing aura of her.

He took deep breath, her words echoing in the corners of his astute ears: _'ace up his sleeve'_. He was more than that. He knew that. Even if he wasn't...

Even if he wasn't alone anymore. Even if he wasn't in complete control over the aim of his days, he was still being aimed in a righteous direction. _Wasn't he... ...?_

"And ace up the sleeve is too obvious. And is only good for the last hand." He murmured to himself, rolling the bo-staff around in his gloved grasp. _"The wildcard... ...The wildcard breaks through at any given moment... ...creates or destroys... ..."_ Images and faces and names rolled through his head, just as the music changed...

_D-Cube... ...Powers... ... ...Green eyes... ..._

The last movement in D major...

_SOTO... ... ...Anderson... ... ... ...Rancid... ... .._

The Sixth Suite.

Robin's eyemask twitched, as if a shadowed movement was howling from above, a mute scream, a steady hum of otherworldly concentration and awareness...and in the split-second chasms that yawned before him, a space through which to deep down, and to remember...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(January 05, 2004)**

With each darklit level of the parking garage that the black van ascended, Gibbs knew more and more that he was in over his head. At first, it didn't seem so bad: a simple delivery, in and out, exchanging a bunch of whosiwhats for a box of whatchamacallits—no questions asked.

And then the drivers handed Gibbs and his buddy two pistols, smoothe and curved metal worm-things that glowed eerily red from deep inside. A sensation came over Gibbs—something he hadn't felt since nearly ten years ago, when he was barely a teenager, and the Centrals from two blocks down were teaching him hao to use a switchblade for the first time. It was a rough lesson that he hadn't been prepared for at his age; he had earned a scar across his brow for his youthful ineptitude.

Right nao, that very same scar creased as Gibbs' brow furrowed in anxiety. Nervously juggling the odd contraption in his hand, he squinted towards one of the two drivers in the front of the van—the darkest part of the vehicle—and gluttered: "Just what in the Hell are these?"

"Look..." the driver on the right grunted, a shades-wearing man in a well-trimmed suit from a well-trimmed organization that Gibbs was not contracted to name out loud while on the job. The fellow's name was 'Louse', which Gibbs could easily remember, though he wished he couldn't. It made him itch. "They've got barrels and they've got triggers. It shouldn't be that hard to figure out the rest, and it should be even _less hard_ to stop asking questions." This 'Louse' turned in his seat to point an authoritative glove square between Gibbs' eyes. "Just be alert, be smart, and wait until either my partner or I give you a signal to use them. Got it?"

"Y-Yeah. I got it." Gibbs gulped, sat straight with a suddeen air of seriousness, and holstered the unnameably wyrd device.

"Good. You're paid to be backup, not brains." Louse glanced back through the van's windshield as they ascended, ascended, ascended the concrete mesas of the Jump City parking garage. _"Dunno where the Boss gets off hiring these dumpster spawns, I swear to god-"_

"_Shhh!"_ The man at the driver's seat hissed, as if Gibbs and his friend hadn't eavesdropped in on the insult already.

Gibbs glanced at the giant wooden crate in the middle of the van, heard its rattling contents inside, and leaned towards his fellow cohort in crime: "_Pssst...Wes, do you get the feeling we've gone a little too far this time?"_

"_Snuff it, Gibbs."_ The taller, gruffier young 'Wes' hissed back. The two of them were two twenty-seven year old things, dressed in identical street skins—mottled overcoats and spotted t-shirts and torn jeans. Desperation rattled through their bodies as it rasped through their library voices: _"This is our breakthrough,"_ Wes said. _"If we can just do **this one** job right, we can break even this month. We might even get those dayum Buzzards off our backs."_

"_Yeah, but is it worth this?"_ Gibbs shuddered. _"This is Big Leagues, man. God almighty, I had no idea the Jump City rabbit hole went this far..."_

"_You heard our friends up front."_ Wes smiled at Gibbs reassuringly under the wavering shadows of the ascending ride. _"Drop the worrying and the thinking and let's just do what we have to do to get **paid**. Besides, I don't want a repeat of what happened last summer in Keystone City."_

Gibbs exhaled long and hard through his nostrils. _"I really didn't see that mirror I knocked over till the last second. Hao was I to know it was our Boss' means of a getaway?"_

"_**Former**__ Boss!"_ Wes hissed, mindful not to attract the ears of their 'supervisors' up front. _"And boy, was he __**pissed**__. It's because of you I haven't given myself a clean shave in nearly fourteen months."_

"_Then stare into a bucket, mofo."_

"_Shh—I think we're almost-"_

"Here we are." The driver said, a slight chuckle to the back of his otherwise emotionless throat. Proud. Indignant. "Looks like we're just on time."

"Smashing." Louse yawned, sudden starlight dancing off his sunglasses.

Gibbs and Wes peered their necks over the van's front seat to see their destination: the central rooftop of the parking garage. Eight stories up, under the purple-star-speckled night of Jump City, three other vehicles could be seen approaching the four men as they came to a stop. In carefully planned, coordinated elegance—the quiet quartet parked their van, exited, and flanked the wide open yawning side door of the vehicle. The suited drivers kept a careful hand on their weapon holsters at all time. Gibbs and Wes pretended to be just as serious; they stood with their backs to the large wooden crate inside the van, blocking it from direct view of the incoming groups...allies..._customers..._

The three vehicles came to a stop.

One: a sleek Japanese sports utility vehicle. Three colorfully dressed and young individuals came out, two men and a woman, all Asian, their hair fashionably dyed in various wild colors, their suits and pants likewise a spectrally artistic kaleidoscope. Glaring expressions grimly contrasted the loud nature of their garb, and a moon-glinting katana sheathed by the hip of each gang member further added to their undercurrent of menace.

Another: an old white van, from which five men piled out—also Asian, but obviously very much unacquainted with the first group, as they cast the SUV-Three the lethal_est_ of glares while cautiously approaching the rendezvous scene. They too were equipped with weapons: steel strong staves that _clanked_ viciously upon the end of their steps. The men leaned on the would-be-weapons calmly, patiently, all dressed in a unanimous black that made them difficult to tell apart as the clouds passed in front of the moon.

The last: a pimped-out pickup truck, large wheels, brass rims. It screeched unceremoniously to a stop, and four _teenagers_ jumped out. Two African Americans, two Caucasians. They bore glinting switchblades, metal bats, and even a rattling loop of chains. If anyone looked ready for a fight, it was them—which showed they were the youngest and least experienced out of all four groups. Ironically enough, Gibbs could recognize a face or two among the pickup truck's group...

"_Centrals..." _ Gibbs leaned into Wes and murmured his thoughts aloud. _"Can you believe they've made it to an equal level with the Dead Men and Neon Hand?"_

"_Shut your squirrel hole!"_ Wes hissed back. _"Our buddies are about to give the spiel."_

"_Hoboy."_

"Well, looks like we're all on time for once!" Louse took two steps before standing within the direct sight of the other three groups. "I see a lot of faces from our previous exchanges. So, most of you should know hao this goes. Each of you will present what you have for the exchange, one after another, and if it all meets the specifications that my organization has agreed to, you get what's promised to you-"

One of the SUV-three shouted shrilly in Japanese, pointing at the four men in Gibbs' and Wes' group.

The two hired thugs glanced nervously at each other.

"..." Louse furrowed his brow. "I beg your pardon?"

The female of the SUV group stepped up, clearing her throat. "He said..." She uttered in English. "...that this isn't right. This is unfair."

"Oh really? Care to enlighten me, bright eyes?"

She pointed. "You and your three partners are carrying firearms."

Gibbs nervously took his hand off the strange weapon's holster. He and Wes tried to hide the fact that they were both nearly as clueless as the 'customers' there...

"The agreement was for everyone to be unarmed!" She hissed. Random members of the other two groups nodded in equal but separate acknowledgment...

"Once more, another idiotic tidbit has been lost in translation." Louse smirked. "If you _paid attention_ to the eletronic memos like a _good girl_, you would realize that the agreement assured us of protecting the **goods** by any means necessary. Only YOU and the OTHER fellow _customers_ are mandated to give up firearms."

"Well, that shit hardly seems fair!" One of the pickup truck youngsters gluttered.

"What's _**unfair**_ is wasting my organization's precious time and gas money by ending this exchange right here and heading home without you street trash getting DIDLEY SQUAT!" Louse barked, his voice cutting the thin haze of the otherwise naked night. A tiny echo, dying, and he lowered his voice and more calmly oozed: "Acquiring a single ounce of these _**goods**_ took more money and resources than your entire collective families will see in a _**lifetime**_. So hao about a little less pretentious bullshit and a little bit more intelligent business, okay?" He shrugged, gesturing towards them all.

Collective...Morbid...Silence.

"Okay? We kosher? Hunkey-Dorey? **Swell**." Louse slapped his hands together and pointed towards the SUV group. "You first, Sailor Moon. You talk big; got something good enough to back it up with this week?"

She shouted in Japanese to her two associates. They opened their vehicle's side door and pulled out a metal container. Slowly—eyeing the other groups—they opened the container for Gibbs' and Wes' supervisors to see. A tall, metal stalk with a bulb at the end glinted in the moonlight. At the press of a feminine button, it began to glow a dim mysterious green, vibrating into the night's air.

"A 'Thought Stalk'. When electrified, this device cancels out the broadcast of all extra-cranial electro-chemical brainwaves within a five mile radius. The Yakuza used it last year when Martian Manhunter was staking out downtown Tokyo for Justice League International. It successfully masked out the extraterrestrial telepath's intrusion during his entire stay."

"Yes...Yes..." The suited man scratched his chin boredly. "But only a five mile radius...?"

"We brought three **others**."

"Hmmm. It'll do." Louse smiled. "You get your share." He pivoted towards the five men from the white van. "What about you?"

The men in black chattered to one another in Cantonese. They rolled the sliding door of the van open and pulled out a crate full of glass jars. The centermost gang member lifted a jar up to the moonlight, exposing a slithering mass of flesh inside.

"Eels of Fiery Conviction, bred in the Underworld." The man spoke in a thick accent. The 'worm' inside the jar swished and thrashed about as he went on: "Once a person is force-fed one of these, the creature fuses with the 'pain' center of his nervous system while emitting a toxin that acts as a truth serum. It is most excellent in interrogation and torture. It helped the Dead Hand find and eliminate the last of the undercover sting operatives in Hong Kong just last New Year."

"I knew you were making more than Wan Tan soup down there in the Underworld..." Louse smiled. "That'll do. You get your share."

The men in black glared daggers at the SUV-Three, received likewise, and placed the lid back on their crate of jars.

Gibbs' and Wes' supervisor finally focused on the last group flanking the pickup truck.

"And what, pray tell, do you fine gentlemen have for us today?" Louse lethargically asked.

Silently, like icy golems, the four teenagers turned their steely glances from the rest, rummaged through the back of the pickup truck, and turned back around. Their spokesperson walked up towards the center, cocking a shotgun-

_Chiiiing!_ The Japanese gang members half-unsheathed their katanas.

_Cl-Clack!_ The Chinese thugs readied their staves.

Gibbs and Wes jumped—nervously fingering their unearthly holsters.

"..." The teenager with the shotgun froze in his steps, calmly glanced back at every other group, and slowly exposed the empty chamber of the weapon. "See? We didn't come armed either. We ain't like that."

"Then what pray tell is this?" Louse asked, an incredulous look bouncing off his shades.

"Shotguns. Dozens of them. Military grade. Bought through the black-market, stocked with custom explosive rounds, and custom built to minimize powder burns. Don't ask us hao, it's a trade secret."

"Riiiiiiiiight..." The neatly suited man blinked. "And you think this is supposed to-?"

"AND..." The teenager snapped his finger at a cohort. A metal doohickey was tossed into his palm. "Tracking devices—Augmented from the same stuff that Green Arrow uses. You can keep tabs on anyone you want, anywhere you want. Have some punk who owes your boss poker money? These things will tell you what they have for breakfast the morning you cap 'em."

"Wait wait wait—We can buy that off the street from the frickin' Buzzard Gang if we wanted to! Why the Hell should I-"

"**AND**_..._" The teenager was handed a final thing: a box full of black metal spheres. "Miniature Electro-Magnetic-Pulse Grenades. They may not be able to take out a helicopter from ground level, but they sure as Hell will get the Heat-on-Wheels off your ass in the thick of it."

Gibbs glanced nervously back and forth from his bosses and the Central City gang members.

"Hmmmm..." Louse scratched his smooth chin. "That's a little more like it. But—seriously-this is supposed to be a professional exchange. You had good shit to dish out last week; what happened? Does D-Cube seriously expect us to accept this street hockey smorgasbord to be adequate payment for-?"

"Our _**boss**_..." The teenager momentarily glared, but regained his cool, patient countenance. "...is glad that you're willing to work with him, and he knows that he's a bit late to your game..." He eyed the other two groups. "...but he sure as Hell ain't no novice to running things in this City, a City that—if memory serves right—the rest of you punks didn't step into until just a few decades ago. So, if you wanna make a deal with us, accept what you can get, and my boss will accept what he can get."

"Then you know what I'm gonna say next." Louse man folded his arms. "You'll get only half a share. Barely that."

The teenager nodded. "And you have my word, with what we bring next meeting—You'll be so floored, you may even give us fifty percent _**more**_..."

"Hold on one second!" One of the five men in black stepped forward, pointing angrily with his metal staff. "Are you going to settle for empty promises?" He spat through the few scant spaces that his thick accent allotted him. "The rest of us brought professional-grade items for the exchange! Since when were you willing to be flexible for street gutter common thugs!"

"The only thing 'street gutter' here, punk..." The teenager glared over at the group. "...is a bunch of cowards who'll cart their own little sisters across the Ocean in a barrel just to sell them to basement perverts for McDonald's Takeout!"

"How dare you!" The men growled and hissed, staves at the ready. "You Dirty American pieces of-"

"Everyone—_**Everyone!**_" Louse held his arms out. "I can see the longer we stay here, the faster heads will fly. I don't know hao you three gangs can stay in this City so long without nuking the hell out of each other, but I frankly don't care. Let's be professional businessmen, make the exchange, and worry about who we stab in their sleep tomorrow morning! Comprende?"

"I only wish to know one thing..." The girl from the SUV-Three waved.

The suited man sighed. "What...?"

"The _other half_ of the share that was going to go to those street urchins..." She pointed. "To whom are they going to nao?"

One of the men in black piped up: "Do we get any of it nao?"

"**Evenly?"** She glared across the garage rooftop.

Louse groaned. "I'm afraid that it'll have to be retained until our next exchange..."

"Our next exchange?"

"But we are here nao! Let us do business nao!"

"I mean what I _**said**_! And I said-"

_**!**_

A huge plume of green. Everyone with a katana unsheathed their glinting weapon towards the burning sky. Every person with a staff gasped and glanced upwards towards the blazing anomaly. Each switchblade and each bat lowered as the teenagers also gazed listlessly overhead, watching an emerald comet burn its way from the heavens...

...and make its heated way towards the heart of downtown.

And then: _**THOOOOM!**_

The ground shook. The thugs' knees rattled. A staff and a switchblade or two fell to the ground. The whole parking garage rumbled, and dozens upon dozens of car alarms in all eight floors beneath them went off in a cacophony of electronic screams. Gibbs and Wes barely managed to keep their balance, leaning on each other and the black van for support. The wooden crate full of unmentionables rattled ominously from within.

Then, after the waves of alien thunder settled...an eerie silence.

The five men in black glanced nervously at each other. The SUV-three craned their necks curiously. The four teenagers and the two men in suits blinked in awe.

"..." Gibbs shuddered. He gulped and murmured: "Was that a meteorite?"

Wes slapped Gibbs upside the head. _WHAP!_

"OW!"

"Captain Obvious." Wes exhaled like an angry bull and turned towards the suited supervisor. "We still good, boss?"

Louse twirled: "The crate's still in one piece?"

Gibbs nodded. "Not a scratch."

"What about you people? Any of the goods damaged?"

"Nah, we cool."

"Our devices are undamaged."

"None of the eels perished—Just what was that falling star?"

"The Hell if I know. Anyone know if Phaser Labs is conducting experiments?"

"They could pull that kind of crap in Bludhaven—But not here. Not yet."

"Still, it was heading south—Towards Downtown."

"I don't feel good about this. Let's get this over with."

"Yeah, the sooner the better." Wes nodded and glanced over at the small figure in the yellow cloak. "This City is off the chain, ain't it?" He looked away-_**"...!"**_-he did a double take back at the cloaked figure. "Say...Who are you?"

The figure's cloak unfurled in a golden flash, then a green fist—_**SMASH!**_

"UNNNGH!" Wes stumbled back-

**GRIP!** The caped shadow grabbed the young man's body, spun, and threw him like a tree trunk into Louse and the other driver. "AAAAA-_**"THUDDD!**_

Gibbs gasped. His hand fumbled for his holster. He glanced nervously down at his leg, only to see that the night horizon was suddenly flipping beneath his feet. _**WH-WHAM!**_ Tripped to the ground, Gibbs barely finished wincing before he heard the shouts and cries of everyone else on the rooftop. Squinting, he looked across the lopsided view of the parking garage to see two bodies hitting the ground; three, four—

_**CL-CLACK!**_ A glint of sparks. Two Japanese thugs were on either side of a gold-and-red shadow, their katanas meeting in the center, then being knocked back. A glint of metal, and something flew out of the shadow's hand, ricocheting off the skull of one thug and violently ripping into the tire of the parked SUV. **_KA-POW!_**

The five men in black engaged the figure, all shouting at once and swinging their staves. With a golden whip, the shadow spun into the center of the group, produced a long silver rod, and tripped all of them at once. _**WH-WH-WH-WH-WHUMP!**_ One of the Chinese gang members nimbly HBK'd back to his feet and dove at the shadow—Only to be uppercutted, grabbed, and swung so hard into the front of the white van that the vehicle dented and bounced on its wheels.

"Oh jeez...Oh jeez..._A CAPE!"_ Gibbs hissed. He crawled over to where Wes was. "Wes, we gotta get-Wes?" _YANK!_ "AUGH!" He yelped as he was being hoisted up and into the black van.

"Shut up!" A bruised and wincing Wes panted, hyperventilated. "We're getting the Hell out of dodge!"

Gibbs almost stumbled over the crate as he crawled to his seat. "We are-?" _**SLAM!**_ The sliding door shut as Gibbs looked to see a haggard Louse at the driver's wheel, lip bleeding, seething—almost foaming—at the mouth. His sunglasses hung at a crooked angle, jaggedly reflecting the kaleidoscopic chaos enshrouding them.

"It's a bust! We're out of here!"

The front passenger seat was empty. Gibbs blinked at it.

Wes shouted what Gibbs was thinking: "Wait! Aren't we missing whats-his-name?"

"He's **screwed**." Louse said. "We're **leaving**." And the van's tires screeched as he madly throttled the vehicle down the ramp and away from the rooftop, away from the fight, away from the _cape..._

"Daaah! Wh-Whoah!" Gibbs grunted as the centripetal force threw him against the wooden crate. _Cl-Clatter-Clunk!_ The lid popped open, a glass of **green** almost flew out. Gibbs gasped and slammed the thing shut with a shaky hand. "Hey, watch it! You almost-!"

"There's no time!" Louse wheezed, glancing out the rear view mirror. "Goddammit! Not _here!_ Not _Jump City!_ First Gotham, then Metropolis—_Nao HERE?"_

"Hooooooo-Shit..." Wes' voice uttered, almost chuckled.

"Huh?" Gibbs blinked. He sat up and craned his neck to look out the rear window of the van to see what Wes saw. "What's happening nao-"

His voice—_his breath—_was cut short at the sight of a pair of titanium boots. The titanium boots belonged to a small, lithe figure. That small, lithe figure was swinging—_flying?—_towards the rear of the van. And that small, lithe figure was just then dropping the heavy weight of a bruised and battered Central City Gang thug who-

_**SHATTTERRRRR!**_

-gracelessly missile'd his way into the van's inside under a sea of glass.

"_**Augh! Crud!"**_ Wes reeled from the meaty impact of the thug's body. Clutching hard to the Jesus bar, he pivoted his sweaty head towards the driver's seat. "Floor it! The maniac's using high school dropouts as bullets!"

"Don't need to tell me twice!" Louse glanced once more into the rear side mirror—_**SMASSSSH!**_ A metal disc with a bird symbol violently embedded into it. "_FRICK!_" He jerked the car, startled, and pushed the gas pedal all the way. _**VRMMMMMM!**_ "Gotta get back to the docks! Gotta salvage the delivery-!"

"Man, screw the delivery!" Wes shouted, finally shoving the glass-encrusted body off him. "Nobody said anything about dayum capes! My buddy and I didn't sign up for this-!"

"I swear to god!" Louse spat back. "If you rat us out for some no-good-teen in his underwear-!" Just as he turned to angle down another floor, a figure swung to a stop eighty feet in front of the speeding van.

Gibbs gasped: "Look out! He's in front of us!"

"You gotta be kidding me..." Wes moaned.

Louse wiped the blood from his chin and grinned like a demon. "His funeral." _**Screeeeeeech-VRMMMMMM!**_

"What the Hell are you doing?" Gibbs sputtered.

"You gonna run him over?" Wes panted.

"Think of it as enforcing curfew." Louse sneered, knuckles white-hot to the wheel.

The van roared towards the figure. His cape fluttered in the wind blowing in from the sides of the parking garage, but otherwise he didn't move.

_**VRMMMMMMM!**_

Seventy feet away...

He extended a metal bo-staff—_Clakkk!_-and steeled his titanium plated boots.

Sixty feet away.

His eyemask glinted in the headlights. Beneath it—A granite frown.

Forty-five feet away.

His hand rose. A beeping remote flickered from within the green glove.

"Wait a second-" Wes murmured.

Gibbs squinted. "What's that in his hand-?"

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!" Louse murderously roared.

_**VRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM****!**_

"..." The masked vigilante clicked the remote. Four explosives stealthily placed within the axle system of the black van while the 'exchange' transpired went-

_**KAPOW! POW!-POW!-P-POW!**_

The van lurched for a second. Louse blinked. "H-Huh?" The van decelerated...decelerated...decelerated...

...and came to an anticlimactic stone-still stop just inches in front of the Boy Wonder.

"..." The driver blinked under his shades

.

"..." Robin stared back.

"It's..." Gibbs blinked incredulously. "It's R-Robin!"

"It's **dead!**" Louse snarled and reached for his gun-

_**CLANK!**_ Robin struck the front of the van thunderously with his bo-staff.

_**POOOOMPF!**_ The air bag exploded in the driver's face. "UNNNGH!" Louse was knocked unconcious.

Gibbs and Wes panted...panted...panted... ... ...then craned their necks to look-

_**POWWW!**_ The sliding door of the van was blown open with tiny explosive charges. A fountain of white smoke billowed into the vehicle's interior. Gibbs and Wes were reduced to a coughing mess. And before the smoke could clear-**TH-TH-TH-THWPPP!** A pair of grappling hooks flew in and ensnared both young thugs.

"Wh-Whoah!"

"Wh-What the-?"

Wes was yanked out into the smokey nightmare outside. "YAAAA-" His screaming voice was cut short by several loud impacts—like a boxer's fists to a hanging piece of meat.

Gibbs had to swallow down his lunch. He struggled with his sudden bindings, barely managing to worm over the body of the Central thug. "Wes? W-Wes...Speak to me, buddy-"

_**FWOOOSH!**_ A pair of ghostly white eye-sockets surged up into Gibbs' face.

"AAAUGH!" The man shrieked, flinching back.

"..." The ghostly 'eyes' belonged to the mask of a lithe young superhero, emblazoned in red, outlined in black, and trailing with gold. He stared deeply into Gibbs' face like a frozen gargoyle, then meltingly tilted his neck down towards the wooden crate on the floor of the van.

"..." Gibbs shivered. "Wh-Where's Wes?"

The voice that came out of the masked creature was sharper than razors. _"Somewhere safer than where you'll be."_

_**GRIP!**_

Gibbs whimpered as he was flung—by the neck—straight into the smoke. _**WHUDD!**_ He landed face-up on concrete, wincing. When his eyes refocused and the smoke cleared, he felt a drop of warm liquid between his eyes. He glanced up to see the distant face of Wes, his mouth hanging open, drooling.

"Aaaugh—Aaaugh, G-God!" Gibbs shuddered all over.

Wes was strung upside down by black cord to a light fixture of the parking garage ceiling. The light flickered on and off, showing ghost glimpses of bruises and welts across Wes' skin. The pained face of the unconscious thug bobbed back and forth on the edge of the cord above Gibbs, helpless to observe his partner in crime's plight.

A wrustling sound. The crackling of splinters.

Gibbs glanced over towards the van-

_**SWOOOOSH!**_

The wooden crate was tossed out. _**SMASSSH!**_ It fell apart into wooden planks, spilling open and overflowing with a sea of glowing green tubes that rattled all over Gibbs' twitching torso.

The thug shuddered and tried in vain to shake off all the glass capsules without shattering them...knowing full well what was inside.

_Knowing full well..._

"Oh jeez..."

_He was about to be interrogated..._

"**Dragonflare**." Robin spat and emerged from the smoke above Gibbs like a ghost horse. **"Where do you get it from?"**

"I..." Gibbs glanced at all the green vials...at the glow that the liquid inside the capsules emitted...at the dangling figure of Wes above him. "... ... ... ...What's 'Dragonflare'?" He smiled nervously-

Robin's titanium plated boot was not-so-gently introduced to Gibbs' groin. _**WHAMMMM!**_

"NNNNNGH!" Gibbs rolled on the ground, legs crossed, eyes tearing in agony. "JESUS ON A BIKE! YOU GODDAM LITTLE ASS GNOME!"

"Maybe I didn't tell you the rules of the game." Robin leered over him, palming his fist. "For each wrong answer you give me, I pick a limb. You've got four left." His eyemask glinted in the breathless gasp of night. "Nao...**Who** is supplying you these capsules?"

"Nnnghh—The _Tooth Fairy..."_

_**WHAMMMM!**_ "Three left."

"_NNNNGH—YOUR MOTHER-"_

**WHAMMM!**

"AAAAAUGH!"

"**TWO."**

"Alright—ALRIGHT!" Gibbs withered, spat. "The docks! Pier Forty-One! It's a midway point-_nnnngh_-but that's all I see! We just ride up there and get the dayum crate full of Mutant Turtle Crap or whatever the Hell this shit is and take it uptown!"

"Who's the prime deliverer?"

"Hao the Hell should I know? You punk-ass bag of steroids, ya ever thought of asking the guy you knocked out in the driver's seat? Nnnnskkkt—He knows a Hell of a lot more than I do!"

"I know who Louse works for..." Robin said, his voice steely cold, like a ship sunk at the bottom of the Ocean for a hundred years—rising up to the surface just to kiss Gibbs' earlobes. "I know what he's paid. I know hao many social diseases he's contracted when splurging his paychecks. But what I haven't known—until nao—is where Louse goes, whom he pays, and what chances he takes to do the dirty work." He gripped Gibbs' collar and hoisted the aching man's torso up. He hissed in his face. "You—and your friend—with the Buzzard Gang making death threats to you on a daily basis, you stand the least to lose—but the most to gain—by cooperating with me."

"..." Gibbs glanced blankly at the sudden teenager. "...y-you're trying to cut a deal with m-me? With a c-crook?"

"Oh, you're going to **jail**." Robin's brow furrowed. "That's a guarantee. But what's also a guarantee is that the Buzzard Gang's friends on the Inside don't get to you for a reward once you're locked up."

"Y-You..." Gibbs' glanced up at Wes' dangling body, then back at Robin. "...You can m-make sure of that? **You**?"

"If you can fill in the last gap in the puzzle, I'll make sure the Buzzard Gang never so much as _thinks_ about you again." Robin said.

"And if I don't?"

_**WHAM!**_

"UGH! D-DAMN!" Gibbs sputtered as he was pressed violently back to the concrete floor, a titanium boot pressing hard against his sternum.

Robin craned down and sneered viciously down at him. "If you don't...I'm going to make you wish you were in the hands of the Buzzard Gang..._This...Very...Night."_

"Nnnngh—This is some sort of trick!" Gibbs rode a wave of anger and spat back at the teen vigilante. "What the Hell do you care about a bunch of stupid prescription capsules anyways? Shouldn't you be running off and taking care of a fire? Or an earthquake? Or—Hell—whatever in God's name that meteor crap was just then?"

Robin's leering body froze. Something twitched under his ghost-pale eyemasks, as if his hidden eyelids were blinkedly mouthing: "_meteor?"_ The Boy Wonder stood up straight and stared off beyond the pillars and rows of concrete that filled the parking garage. A distant green glow reflected off his lithe figure.

"...hmm...right...almost forgot about that..."

Behind Robin's back, a figure stumbled achingly out of the van. The Central City Gang Thug rubbed his aching head and yanked a glass shard or two out of his hair. He took one look at Robin, snarled, produced a switchblade, and ran at full force-

_**WHUDD!**_ Robin blindly back-handed him to the floor. _Whap!_

"Not important." The Boy Wonder dismissed the distant glow. He glared once more down at Gibbs. "And don't play dumb with me. You know very well what impact this **Dragonflare** has had on this suffering city."

"Play your pity game elsewhere-"

_**WHUMP!**_ Robin clamped his gloved hand around Gibbs' throat again.

"Snkkkkt—_STOP-Snkkkt-DOING THAT!"_

"Families destroyed. Teenagers reduced to brain dead vegetables. Citizens turned into homeless vagabonds, homeless vagabonds turned into violent psychotics—That drug isn't just a hallucinogen, it's a _toxin_. It destroys the brain from the inside out. It should just as well be labeled a **poison**. Hao a worthless scum bucket like you gets off selling it and not having his conscience pricked is beyond me."

"A conscience doesn't buy you food to eat next week..." Gibbs hissed.

"Neither do pathetic excuses." Robin shoved Gibbs over. _**WH-WHUMP!**_ A rattling noise, and he began to handcuff the thug. "We're going on a trip..."

"A tr-trip?" Gibbs sputtered. He glanced up, his neck aching, and caught the quietly stirring shadow of Wes overhead. He made no mention of it. "A trip where?"

"Kobayashi Tower. It's under construction as we speak. Even unfinished as it is, it's taller than the Sears Tower." Robin turned Gibbs over once more and glared at his face. "Maybe once you're given the grand tour by bungie cord, your bladder will persuade your mouth into telling me the truth..."

"_H-Hey Caped Crusader!"_ Wes' voice uttered.

Robin's eyemask lit up. He glanced overhead. So did Gibbs.

Wes, hanging upside down and suddenly awake, had somehao managed to wrench free a hand, and that hand was currently gripping tight to the trigger of a curved, metallic gun. Aiming it at Robin, the grizzled thug smirked and hissed forth: "Watch the birdy!"

"No, Wes, wait-!" Gibbs shouted.

Robin grunted, yanked Gibbs' body, and flung the two of them away at the last second-

_**KRA-KOWWWWWWW**!_

Not even Wes was prepared for the strength of the discharge. A huge sphere of red plasma flew from the barrel of the gun and exploded a literal hole in the floor of the parking garage. Ash and shrapnel flew from the site, followed by a ring of fire that haloed the blast and spread across the concrete like a grassfire.

"WHOAHHH!" Wes teetered wildly back and forth like a loose pendulum. "What in the Hell did they give us-?" His cord gave slack as the light fixture it was attached to gave way. _CRKKK!_ "Shiiiiiet-" He fell hard to the floor. _OOF!_ His finger pulled the trigger.

"You idiot-!" Robin began to shout, covering Gibbs-

_**KRAKOWWW****!**_ The next plasma burst went into two parked cars. They exploded. Brilliantly. **BOOOOOM!**

"NNNGH!" Wes flinched from the burning bits that flew his way.

Robin jumped to his feet and jogged like mad towards Wes.

Wes pivoted, gasped, and took aim-

Robin dove and spun in midair-

_**KRAKOWWWW**_! The blast barely nicked the Boy Wonder's cave, impacting the ceiling above. **_CRKKKKK!_** A hole formed, causing two minivans to crash thunderously down on either side of a screaming Gibbs.

"LET GO OF THAT!" Robin wrenched the pistol away from Wes. He glanced at the glowing contraption, at the chaos and fire and wreckage around him, then at the identical one holstered against the urinating Gibbs' leg. "Hmmm...Definitely..._Definitely_ not of this world..." His eyemask thinned as he thought aloud through clenched teeth. "First Dragonflare, nao alien technology. That means they have _expanded_ beyond just-"

A crackling sound.

Robin looked over. His eyemask sagged.

The ring of fire from the initial plasma pistol's blast had spread to the thugs' black van...and the fuel tank was leaking. Time, physics, and an inevitable simulation played out in Robin's head. He glanced at the van, at the Dragonflare, at the unconscious driver inside, at the twitching bodies of Gibbs and Wes.

"..."

He sighed...groaned even.

_SWOOSH!_

Robin ran...straight towards the van. _Crkkk!_ He extended his bo-staff and used it as a lever to pry open Louse's side door. "Nnnnnnngh-"_** CRAKKK!**_

He lunged his gloved hand in, grabbed the shoulder of Louse—_yank_-who didn't budge.

"Dammit..." Robin glanced at the leaking fuel and spreading fire out of the corner of his eyemask and produced a razor sharp birdarang. "Millions of crooks along the East Coast and I've got the only one who uses his seatbelt."

He cut, cut, cut away at the belt. _Snnnn-SNAP!_ It came loose.

The fuel and fire made contact-

"Hrnnngh!" Robin dove with Louse's body-

_**KAPOWWWW!**_ They both were engulfed in a bright fireball.

Wes and Gibbs gasped.

_**KA-POWWWWW!**_ The next vehicle exploded. **_POWWW!_** And the one next to that. _**B-BOOM! **_That entire side of the parking garage was engulfed in flame...

...and out from the smoke—_**THFFFT!**_ A grappling hook flew out, impacted with the faraway wall, and pulled taut as the smoke-trailing bodies of Robin and Louse soared out.

_TH-THAP!_ Robin dropped the body beside Wes and Gibbs, took a huge gasp of clean air, and ran back to drag the Central Thug's unconscious body over to safety as well. By now, the fire sprinkler system of the parking garage had gone into effect, but Robin didn't let that stop him from flinging a few silver-colored discs into the fiery mess for good measure. An explosion of white mist, and the extinguishing material calmed most of the flames into a mere sizzle.

But it was too late. Robin's sagging shoulders told the tale. The suspects' van went up in smoke...and along with it, all the Dragonflare in proximity had been turned to near indescinerable ash.

While the implications of this were obvious to Robin, they were momentarily lost to Wes and Gibbs, because:

"Y-You went back to save him..." Wes breathlessly muttered. "You could have let him die...Y-You could have l-let us all die for all you care!"

"..." Robin's back was to them. He stared at the smoking wreckage...then at the laser pistols discarded on the ground...then at the distant green glow in Jump City's Downtown.

Finally...

He took a deep breath, gathered the evidence into a gigantic bag, and pinned them to a wall above the grounded thugs. The Boy Wonder then fired a majestically bright flare out the side of the Parking Garage—bright enough to be seen by the Jump City Police Department uptown, as if it made a difference at that point.

"...h-he was gonna tear me a new one, Wes..." Gibbs murmured, watching the fury deflate from the suddenly young caped crusader. "I don't get it...Why didn't he just let us burn...?"

Robin walked past them and replied. "Because I'm better."

Gibbs and Wes blinked.

"Better than what?"

_**TH-THWACKKKK!**_ In one blinding spin, Robin suddenly cracked both thugs upside the head with a bo-staff.

"UNGH!" "Ooof!" Both men grunted...and were instantly knocked cold.

"...exactly." Was Robin's final answer.

He stood out towards the opposite edge of the parking garage, set his eyemask on the distant green glow, and took a meditative breath.

"Your priorities. Keep them straight." Pow! Cl-Clank! He flew off via grappling hook. "Straight and narrow."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(****Five Months Ago****)**

Westhaven lingered quietly under blue-tinged moonlight, a dusty tree-nestled town just fifty miles west of Jump City limits. Half of the people who lived there were too rich to appreciate the tranquility of that place along the western mountain slopes. The other half were too old to appreciate—let alone comprehend—just hao rich they were.

A new village formed along the northern reaches of Westhaven—a village for the dead: a graveyard, one of the most majestic and well-kept cemeteries in the entire region.

On the south side, opposite of the cemetery, and shadowed in the alcove of steep hills that shun the moonlight, was the Westhaven Rest Center—a transition point for those planning, though not entirely anticipating, moving towards the north edge of town.

But a small portion of the Westhaven Rest Center—the East Wing—was a home for a different populace entirely. Back in the day, they called the facility a 'sanitarium'. In the present, nobody seemed content in naming it anything, let alone to suggest what the place actually was: a home for the mentally ill.

In one lonely white-walled room—one room out of dozens just like it—a middle aged woman sat, quietly, by herself.

Outside, in the brightly lit checkerboarded hallways, orderlies and facility guards quietly and lethargically monitored the interiors, paid to protect the occupants—mostly against themselves. Amidst a low-pitched cacophony of constant footsteps against tile, a wayward cry or yelp of confusion would light the air, would receive no answer, would cry out once more for a period of ten listless minutes, and eventually bleed away into silence...only to repeat again, unannounced, several sleepless hours later, mummified in monotony and white sheets within the abandoned hovels of Westhaven.

Through this—within the center of sanity's sarcophagus—the middle-aged woman merely _existed_. She sat on the edge of her bed, her skinny body propped straight up with some unnamed source of energy, some dull determination to be indeterminate. Her hands fused to her knees like bedknobs, knuckles forever kneading useless bony legs in slow motion. The woman's head leaned to the side, a blonde crop of unconditioned threads, and her eyes gazed endlessly into some vacant space beyond space.

An explorer...with no promise of discovery...

After a space of spacelessness, a shadow in the brightly lit hallway outside paused. An orderly in white gazed in through the bright glass window of the room's only door, squinted his eyes, found everything the same as it had been the previous hour, the previous day, the previous week, the previous month, the previous year... ... ... ...and then he moved on.

"... ... ... ... ..." She sat there, saying nothing, doing nothing, being nothing.

A camera was trained on her—Suspended in the topmost corner of the room, opposite to the door. A dim blue light above the camera cast the haziest of auras against the uppermost cinderblocks of the room's white wall. But—as things were the way they were—the camera lens may just as well have been as listless as the occupant the device was charged with observing.

Things had never changed in that room, and they never would.

Another shadow passed by the window, another series of muted footsteps, another distant cry of words misunderstood by the very utterer, and things were silence once more—save for a hum, the only hum that there ever was or ever would be, the quiet and low-key vibration that is life, or in the very least, the acknowledgment of the lack of life.

But then...

Something else. Something loud—And yet quieter than a pindrop in any other room, in any other building, in any other city...

And with that quiet loudness, there was a strobe—a brief but frantic fluctuation to the blue light at the top of the lone camera. Then the once-solid blue light gently shimmered in a confused, mute desperation.

The woman didn't so much as move her neck. Nothing happened outside. Nothing happened anywhere. Just...nothing...

No later than ten seconds after the camera's light started blinking, there was another alien noise—a metallic ringing. The woman would not so much as tilt her head to see, but the air-conditioning grate directly overhead was being unfastened..._from within the ceiling._

And, just as soon as these flimsiest of disturbances began...

_Creaaak!_

The air-conditioning vent lifted.

A shadow leapt down.

It was followed by another shadow—a cape.

Both landed without so much as a breath. The figure could have been wearing bells on his joints and still have not made so much as a scraping noise.

"..." The penumbra of the hallway's light glistened on Robin's eyemask. The young hero tilted his head up until he was gazing at the woman's face.

She did not gaze back, and yet she did—through him, without so much as acknowledging him.

Without.

"..." The boy stood straight. A beat, and he craned his neck out towards the hallway outside. No guards were scheduled to be in that part of the East Wing for another ten minutes. He didn't have much time, for what it was worth.

And as he looked towards her—She who didn't look back, who breathed no differently with him in the room than when he wasn't, who looked deader than the gravestones on the north edge of Westhaven managed...

... ... It was worth everything, and more.

He shuffled over. Very gently, like a Fall leaf, he lowered down to one knee before her. Once they were at head level, he listlessly gazed into her eyes...eyes that not only wouldn't reflect his visage, but couldn't...

It was familiarly horrible sight: Green eyes. As green as she had always had before. Unnaturally green, with emerald webbings emanating from the edges of her sockets. They blinded her, and yet they didn't. They leeched from her, and yet they didn't.

All he knew was that they weren't the eyes that she was born with.

He took a deep breath, stretched a gentle gloved hand forward—and under the missing gasp of yesterday and today, rested his fingers atop her pale knuckles.

"H-Hey Mom..." Robin gulped, smiled bravely, and looked up at her. "It's me."

Silence.

He swallowed the silence, inhaled it as he always had. He expected only one product of the exchange, and yet it didn't stop him...didn't stop him from peeling the eyemask off his face like an unwashed band-aid and exposing a pair of weak, deflated stone-blue eyes before the crumbled woman.

"It's Tim." Some strange teenage boy said. "Your son..."

She stared through him, away from him. Green. _Green_. _**Green**_.

"I didn't want to...disturb you much today...n-not like last time." He shifted uncomfortably, but shook it off with a brave smile, or something resembling one. "But I think you should know, that I'm...t-that I'm taking part in a very special project."

She stared...

"You see, it's...it's a very special 'school project'," he said boldly between the cold walls of the place, hearing his own echo, bored to death by the familiar weakness stemmed in the higher pitch of it. "I guess you could say it's extracurricular. But, it means I won't be in Gotham City anymore. In fact, I will be a lot closer. I've been doing a lot of research, and...uh...well, let's just say that there're only a few choice places for me to pursue this new project I'm on. And I realized that the best place to work is at Jump City. I will...be having a lot of opportunities there, soon." He gulped. "_A lot of unanswered questions...to be found..."_ He added the last bit with a whisper.

She stared... ... ... ... ... ...

"I...uhm..." He lovingly stroked her hand once more, but found himself too staring, staring through it. "...I have to do this project alone. At least for a while. But, it's not really so bad being alone. Especially when you know that you're just—_heh_—a hop, skip, and a jump away from the people...the _person_ you really care for."

"... ... ... ... ... ... ..."

He tongued the inside of his mouth. A swallow, and the reflected image of her hand started to blur in his eyes. A single blink, though, and it all refocused.

"You don't...Don't have to say anything, Mom. But...B-But just hear me out on this." He gently raised her limp hand in his grasp and held it in two gloved palms as he leaned closer towards her green specs, empty, empty, empty: "Even though...though I-I may not be able to...to h-help you, Mom, it doesn't mean that I don't...that I don't..."

He bit his lip. A shuddering breath and then a sideways smile.

"I love you, Mom. I love you—And I remember, in the faintest distance of all this..." He circled her innermost knuckle with a loving finger for emphasis. "...the words you used to say to me. And I've never once forgotten about them. I've never forgotten how important it is to...t-to be strong." A breath, fuming, as he too gazed off somewhere and blurted forth next in a low voice: "When Dad wasn't. For you. For us."

"... ... ... ... ... ..."

"Well." He gently lowered her hand, planted his eyemask back on, and stood up briskly. A smiling breath, again, again: "This time, I'm going to be someplace where I can be strong for others too. A _lot_ of others."

"... ... ..."

Robin leaned forward, forward...grazed a flank of her dirty blonde hair, and leaned his head feather-soft against hers. A breath, closed, eyes, and a final:

"See ya soon, Mom. I promise."

A shadow...from out in the hallway...

A ghostly wind kicked at her blonde wisps, like waving treetops on a granite rockface.

An orderly glanced inside once more. Eyes left. Eyes right.

He left, unable to see the blink-swift closing of the air conditioning vent in the ceiling above. A few seconds later, something inside the camera whurred. The blue light stopped blinking, returning once more to its natural, constant dimness, and everything in the room was just as still dead as its occupant was alive.

Nothing had changed.

Minutes later, outside, under starlight and along the fringes of the Westhaven Rest Center, the Boy Wonder straddled his red motorcycle. He grabbed his helmet, paused, and gave the facility a lingering gaze from beyond the sanctum of shrubbery and tree branches.

He looked briefly like a bird without wings, who couldn't afford a nest—nor needed one.

An exhale, and the caped crusader slipped his helmet back on. As soon as his cranium was within the confines of the article, he uttered the words: _'Review ON.'_

The onboard computer switched to life, tapped into a wireless network, and broadcasted a list of files along the left side of the helmet's visor. The right side of the visor was blank, allowing Robin clear vision of the dirt roads ahead as he throttled the bike to life, accelerated under tree tops, and finally merged onto an empty highway—speeding eastward towards Jump City.

"_Open last saved program."_

Along the left horizon of the visor, a list of names and faces popped up—_Ding Dong Daddy, Neon Hand, Dead Men—_followed with an array of photographed evidence, and finally a location highlighted on a map of Jump City: a lone parking garage.

Robin registered all of this, and yet he didn't. Just as the right side of his eyemask twitched upon monitoring the road ahead, the rest of him melted into a cold pool of thought, ensnared around a memory...a sense...

A scent...Her scent, lingering on through the night, all the way to sunrise, when the salty wind of Jump City rose along the horizon, burning in fury, and blew it off him, as it blew his cape.

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(Seven Months Ago)**

Robin took a deep breath, his head tilted towards the distant city lights across the dark waves. He inhaled the dirty miasma of the harbor, as if testing out a new pair of lungs, or counting the ticks of a newly beating heart.

And yet, it was all the same—the same depression, the same grim decay, the same ever-dying sights, sounds, and smells of Gotham that washed up on all sides of the decrepit yacht he was presently perched on.

Somehao, none of it disturbed him anymore. Neither did the sight of unconscious bruised bodies of gunmen all across the ship's deck, or the bulletholes all across the walls and portholes, or the empty shell casings rolling with the pitch and yawn of the vessel. And neither did the horrified screams of the suspect—magnified greatly—as Robin tilted his head back down towards the frantic man hanging upside down by the impromptu pulley system the Boy Wonder had made with his grappling hook slung over a metal liferaft suspender.

"Time's up. I'm going to ask you one last time." Robin spoke firmly, cooly—a frigid contrast to the man's anguished howling. "Where was this ship heading? Where were you taking the people below deck?"

"I dunno! _I dunno_, okay?.!" The man shrieked, spit, and spun from where he dangled by a single foot over the crashing waves below. "I-I was just hired to point a gun and shoot at psychotic freaks like you! They didn't tell me nothing!"

"You spent several hours inside the ship's navigation room. You had a cell phone in your pocket that had received several phone calls by a 'Mister Rexxin'." Robin's eyemask narrowed. "If you weren't the first one in line to receive directions for this ship's heading, then just what were all those phone conversations about? High school gossip?"

"You tell me, Pee-wee."

"Yeah. Okay." Robin's gloved grip loosened. The cord gave slack.

"AAAAAAAAA-_AAAAAAAAAAAA-aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"_ The man screamed, fell, fell, fell—_**SPLOOSH!**_-and plunged beneath the grimy waves of Gotham Harbor. "Bllblbll-Bllbllblb-Bllblllblblbb!"

"...nnngh..." Robin exhaled through gnashed teeth. His wrist pivoted, and he clicked on a button of the grappling device.

_**Bziiiiiiip!**_ The line retracted, rolling over the raft support bar. Dripping, sputtering, and thoroughly humiliated—the man rose back within the teen superhero's earshot.

"Y-You maniac!" The upside-down man wheezed and stared wide-eyed at Robin through a moss of wet stringy hair. "You're gonna drown me!"

"I'd worry more about hao you're gonna smell at your funeral." Robin hissed through his teeth. "Not like anyone's going to attend, of course."

"I-I thought you capes h-had a code!" The man gluttered. "Some...S-Some moral compass or shit-knows-what!"

"You want to lecture _me_ on morality?" Robin frowned and waved a gloved hand towards the deep bowels of the ship. "You have over one hundred fitful, mentally unstable people bound and gagged—soiled in their own juices—being carted off like cattle to god knows where! And you, punk, are going to _tell me where_ you were going to take them or only **God will know** where **you're headed tonight**."

"What the Hell do you care about them anyways?" The man shrieked. "They're not people! Not anymore, they're not! They'll be living vegetables all their life—What's the use in saving that?"

"You know very well what got them to that point." Robin yanked the dangling man's face towards him, glaring at him upside down, nose-to-dripping-nose. "The only reason you haven't carelessly dumped their 'vegetable bodies' into this very Harbor several hours ago is that someone you're working for finds them to be marginally useful. I'm willing to bet that the person who wants to use them is the person who's responsible for them becoming this way to begin with."

"I d-don't know such a person..." The man panted.

Robin snarled: "**Dragonflare**."

"..."

Robin explicated: "They've all taken it. They've ingested it, or injected it into themselves intraveneously. Whatever the case—They got more out of it than some hallucinogenic buzz promised to them on the street. It's destroyed them from the inside out, collapsed their nervous system and rendered them catatonic—like it has done so for thousands of people all across the East Coast over the last ten years. The fact that a drug that dangerous can still be so popular is a paradox—but a profitable one. But your boss cannot profit forever on a product that renders more than a third of his customers brain-dead. So...whoever distributes the stuff, ideally wants a handful of these victims, to keep them someplace nearby, to keep an eye on them, to experiment on them, to find out hao they tick—or hao they stopped ticking. Then and only then can the Dragonflare be corrected, refined, and possibly made even more potent...But still _**dangerous**_, nonetheless."

"Nnngh!" The man gasped at the end of Robin's shove and found himself bobbing back and forth, eyeing forlornly the licking waves of the Harbor below him.

"Tell me where these 'test subjects' were being taken...And not only will I know where to search, but I'll be sure you're incarcerated as far away from there as possible. That way, your boss won't find you nearly as easily." Robin hissed: "And believe me, you _**will**_ be found after tonight...In some way or another."

"I..." The man gulped. "I can't tell you-"

_**WHACK!**_ Robin slugged him hard across the jaw.

"Unnngh!" The man spat blood, twirling on the end of his cord from the Boy Wonder's vicious punch.

"You can tell me _so long_ as you have _**a jaw**_ to **_move!_**" The boy shouted.

"Nkkkt..." The man winced, teared some, and finally blurted: "Jump City!"

Robin's brow creased. "Jump City?"

"Th-The Shipyards! We were gonna drop the people off and then continue on to Metropolis with a sh-shipment of empty capsules!" The man shuddered. "I wouldn't know just where the Hell the people would go after that. I was never told the last two times!"

Robin frowned. "You mean you've trafficked drug addicts **before**?"

"Not until recently! He said it was only a temporary arrangement!" The man choked, hiccuped. A grown man crying, fed up. "He said we could buy our ticket away from the East Coast with j-just two more deliveries!"

"**Who**?" Robin grunted.

"Nnngh...P-Powers...!" The man finally, defeatedly wheezed.

"...Powers..." Robin murmured aloud, his eyemask'd gaze drifting along the horizon. "...James Powers? Of Powers Incorporated?"

"I am so dead-"

"Desperate, yes. But not dead." Robin hoisted the dangling man closer. "If you work for Powers, then 'Mr. Rexxin' is the middle-man. And news from Bludhaven attaches the name 'Mr. Rexxin' to the Jacob Anderson, ringleader to the Bludhaven Street Fight Circuit. And Jacob Anderson is brother to..." Robin's lips twitched ever so slightly. "...the CEO of the Westhaven Banking Consortium, located just outside of Jump City..."

"Okay...OKAY! Good for you, Sherlock!" The man grunted, gasped, sputtered. "Nao please don't kill me! I gave you what you wanted!"

"Sounds fair." And Robin gave the cord one swift yank.

"YAAAUGH!-" The man flailed, fell onto the yacht's deck, and bounced comically on his butt. "Y-You mean...You mean y-you were gonna _spare_ me _all along_?" He snarled through a trickling gargle of blood and vmit. "All that tough-guy shit was an act?"

"Sure, why not?"

"..." The man blinked. "Well, then, just what in the blue Hell-?" A green glove sailed hard into his gut. "OOOMMMF!" He exhaled all his oxygen. His eyes teared, rolled back, and he fell unconscious.

"**You're** the only tough-guy here." Robin muttered. He rolled the man's soggy body over on deck, and crouched down to untie the cord from his ankles. _"Jump City...Pre-Pubescent of the East Coast. Who'd a thunk it...?" _ He paused suddenly, his shoulders ice cold. "..." He glanced briefly over his shoulder. "You'll find that I handcuffed everyone whom I had previously knocked unconscious. I also stripped them of all forms of communication. So if you're here to clean up after me, don't."

A shadow along the starboard side of the ship shifted. The billowing of an obsidian cape, and a pointed cowl glistened in the moonlight just yards from where Robin squatted.

"You're vicious. Intimidating." Batman remarked, his voice like a mist rising from the crimson harbor. "Boldly violent, I might add."

"Like you...?" Robin remarked, recoiling his cord.

"Not quite." Batman stared. "But not like yourself, either."

"You know me well, Batman." Robin stood up and icily turned around. "You of all people should realize I'm only doing what I have to do."

"Should I?" Batman's jaw tightened. "This is the first time I've seen you since you returned, Robin."

"And I have an investigation to do." Robin said. He strolled firmly past his mentor. "And you're impeding on it."

"It would have to be an investigation to begin with for me to alter it any." Batman pivoted with Robin's movement, steely observing his every move. "You're much more strongheaded than I've ever seen you, Robin. Are you certain that you're actually being objective here, and not just blowing off steam?"

"I'm making progress, aren't I?" Robin opened a door that led to a lower deck. "Four Dragonflare trafficking groups nabbed in three weeks. And nao this ship full of human cargo, hitherto unnoticed—even by you and Nightwing, I trust..."

He whipped out a flashlight from his utility belt and shined a swath of illumination across the ship's interiors. Dozens upon dozens of bound citizens twitched and groaned at the touch of the glow. Several pairs of eyes flashed his way, all green, all dull, all lifeless.

"I already patched a call through to the Oracle half-an-hour ago..." Robin said. "The Coast Guard will be arriving on these coordinates within minutes. God knows where these people will spend the next few years of their lives, but at least it won't be in some forsaken hell hole to be poked and prodded by the same people who made them this way."

"Jump City?" Batman leaned over. "You really think the suspect was giving you a legitimate piece of info?"

"I guess I'm going to find out." Robin retracted the flashlight, shut the door, and turned around. "I'm headed there next."

"Not yet you aren't." Batman was suddenly like a granite statue: tall, iron-wrought, and most decidedly in Robin's way. "Go back to the Batcave. Get some rest."

"I can't stop, Batman. I appreciate the sentiment-"

"No. I don't think you do." Batman retorted, just as icy as his protege. "Ever since you've come back from the mountains of Nanda Parbat, you haven't been yourself. You haven't come to me, you haven't gone to Nightwing, Oracle, or even Alfred. If you had been so forward as to turn off your tracking device, I might even have assumed that you had-"

"And I didn't turn it off, Batman..._Bruce..."_ Robin emphasized in a whispering voice. "...because I want to assure you that you can trust me." A deep breath. "As I would hope that you would have faith in me."

"-And in this investigation you're conducting?"

"Dragonflare is more than a dangerous hallucinogen." Robin said determinedly. "It is a pestilence, bred by the scum of society, being used to kill people from the inside out. It shatters families, destroys the city's youths, and breeds gang wars. And—what's worse—it's spreading exponentially, like wildfire."

Batman's eyeslits narrowed. "It's also what ultimately killed your father, _Tim_." A breathless pause, then: "And it's what ruined your mother's life."

"..." Robin gazed away from him. His gloved fists clenched...

"So you can understand my fears—and perhaps deduce the logic behind my suspicion—that this exercise of yours is not so much a virtuous undertaking as it is a personal matter-"

"If you're asking me if I'm on some sort of vindictive crusade, I don't blame you. But I'm not, Batman. It's hard to seek vengeance when there's no one left to punish..." He then uttered in a deflated breath: "Or anyone left who can appreciate being avenged." He glanced up at his mentor. "You're right to think I've changed. But the fact that I came back from Nanda Parbat alive and sane—_and _without blood stained on my hands—**should** prove that I'm capable of thinking outside of the limits of my subjectivity."

The Boy Wonder then took an icy step towards Batman, but his arms were spread in a harmless, vulnerable manner. He said:

"In spite of it all, I am still learning. And I know it. I know that I have a lot left to learn. I have...I-I have things to work on, _Bruce_. But I can't do that here. Not in Gotham...Where I have only within the penumbra of your shadow to exercise myself. I can't grow if I stay here...because all I'll ever be is _**safe**_."

The teenaged vigilante pointed a gloved hand southward.

"Something waits for me...maybe in Jump City...maybe elsewhere. And that something is a solution to this Dragonflare situation. It is my task to seek out an answer to it, and to not back down from such a call until I do. And once I'm done with that, I'll find something else to work on, and I'll tend to that with no less diligence. Because it's what _heroes do_. It's what you've done...and what you've taught me to do. I must take what I've learned and exercise it...But I can't do that unless you're willing to have faith in me, and let me go. So, Batman, please..._please_ don't impede on my investigation."

Batman's cowled head cocked slightly to the side. "I think you are more than capable of conducting an investigation, and improving yourself, Robin..."

Robin paced over towards the railing, already sighing, already sagging his shoulders. "_BUT_..."

"But..." Batman stepped a few paces towards him. "I don't think you realize all the things you're missing. All the things you need..."

Robin spun around, briefly glaring. "Like what? Experience?"

"...like _**friends**_, Robin."

"..." Robin raised an eyebrow above his mask. He exhaled through his nostrils and stared out towards the dark waters. "I'll worry about Dragonflare nao. Friends, I can have later."

"That may work for me. But not for you." Batman pointed. "We may be in the dark over what happened to you in Nanda Parbat, but I remember what happened to you four years ago when we fought the Mad Hatter. Where would you be today if you didn't have...didn't have _us_ then, Robin?"

Robin's fists clenched, grabbing ahold the railing so hard that it nearly bent under his touch. But a few trailing seconds passed, and his knuckles relaxed.

"...Robin?"

"First good omen I've had all day, Batman..." Robin glanced back at him. "Had you have mentioned the Mad Hatter months ago—before Nanda Parbat—I would have tried punching you in the face."

"..." Batman merely stared.

A deep breath. Something akin to a smile. "But nao...Nao, I hardly even care." The hair kicked lightly at Robin's black bangs. He climbed over the railing, aiming towards a red jet ski bobbing alongside the standstill yacht. The Batcraft was bobbing a few yards away. Robin paused, perched on the railing, and murmured without looking at Batman. "But...I want you to know, Bruce. I thank you...I thank you for everything." He glanced back over his flapping gold cape. "I owe everything to you..._absolutely_ everything. And there may come a time when I'll need your help desperately with something, and will have to rely on your better judgment." Then the Boy Wonder pointed. "But please allow me the freedom to _choose_ when and where such a moment would arrive. And _then_ and _only then_."

"..." Batman folded his arms out from under his cape. "Good luck, Robin. The people below deck owe their lives to you. I expect many more saved lives in your future."

"Like I said..." Robin saluted. "I have many areas in which to learn...and improve myself."

Robin dove off the side of the yacht, twirled, and landed nimbly on the jet ski below. The dark silhouette of Batman faded from his mind's eye as he put on a helmet, sighed, and uttered to the lonely sea air about himself.

"If only I can find out hao to _repair_ those lives..."

As he roared off across the harbor, hearing the interchanging motors of the Batcraft and the coast guard, he found his eyes aimed skyward, towards the red night, towards the crimson miasma of the past...

...and towards the copper scented memories he could never wash himself clean of.

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(Nine Months Ago)**

He sat, bloodied and bruised, on his knees. His naked chest shivered in the misty air, as an underground river of ice cold water rippled before him, reflecting the tall and dark shape of a shapely female marching around him, dominant, deadly.

He didn't dare move. He knew what would happen if he moved without being asked to. Several broken knuckles on his right hand told the tail. A fractured ankle in his left leg told even more.

There he sat, there he lingered, there he lingered.. ... ...as the cold subterranean silence pierced at his every wound and welt...

Finally...

_Finally... ..._

She spoke, echoing ghostily throughout the mammoth, black cave. And her frigid, metallic voice chilled him all the more to the bone.

"So here we are again... ...just like yesterday... ...just like the day before... ... ...And do you know why we are here? There is a simple path leading away from the here and nao—a path that you could very easily have taken. A path that I have told you to take. And yet, you've refused, over and over again. For what? Some moral that you have clung to for years—years that have been robbed from you by a self-appointed vigilante of justice, a psychopath of biblical nature. Tell me, what _just_ and _fair _world would drop you here, in my lap, to break you into so many useless pieces...?"

He hissed back: "Nnghh... ...A just world... ... ...is a world that we **make**-"

"And you think that's natural? You are an animal—a sheep, when I can teach you to be a wolf." She slithered around him. _CHIIIING!_ She produced a sword and planted it directly under his left ear, forcing his head to crane about and catch her in his peripheral. "You have such great talent, and all of it untapped. Why else would you come here to these mountains...? Why would you come to Nanda Parbat, unless you wanted to evolve from that which you were?"

"M-Months ago... ... ...I was defeated... ... ...demoralized... ... ...and h-humiliated by a heartless thug.. ... ...A vile man gifted with talents that should be reserved for champions of righteousness-"

"And yet he was a champion nonetheless, yes?" She squinted at him, dark eyes narrowing. "What affords a 'vile' man the ability to defeat any force that comes his way? Surely it is not an absolute power—Or did you think that some unearthly sage in Nanda Parbat would render you a god...?"

"I came to the mountains above us... ..." He hissed and sputtered bloodily. "... ...to learn to rid the world of monsters like you... ..."

"So I am a monster, nao?" She whipped the blade—_singing through the air—_so that it rested under his neck in a blink. "A monster gobbles up that which it hungers for. A goddess sees a pawn and turns it into a knight. Why do you resist a power that I, of all people, am willing to give you...?"

"Power is corrupt in the hands of those whose ambition outweight their decency... ..."

"Hrmmph... ...Katarou was right... ..." She grinned ever so slightly. "... ...you _are_ a simpleton."

Timothy Drake's blue eyes twitched. "You.. ... ...You and him-?"

She slowly nodded. _CHIIING!_ The blade sang around his shuddering neck as she paced around him. "My hand reaches far around the world, child. I fished you from Gotham for a reason—for the fingers of the League provide the only grip that matters. We need more talent... ...more _apprentices_... ... ...And they've entrusted me to tend to their flock, and turn it into a _pack_. Nao... ...once more... ...and suffer the consequences otherwise..."

She stood beside him, and flung her hand-

_**CL-CLATTER!**_ The scimitar landed beside him.

He gasped...gulped...and glanced up at her.

Her eyes narrowed as she spread hear arms wide. "Take up that sword..." Her face tilted up. "... ...and kill me."

"... ... ..." He took a deep, shuddering breath. A tear rolled down his cheek as he tightened his muscles and grunted forth: "**No**."

"... ... ..." She exhaled through her nostrils. Slowly, she shuffled behind his rear.

He shuddered and glanced down at the waters, just to see a snarling face accompanied by a lowering handchop-

_**WHACKKKK!**_

Something in his shoulder cracked and he fell hard to the floor, yelping in pain—before the breath was knocked viciously from his lungs by a boot to the sternum—then across the cheekbone, fissuring it. _**WHACKKK!**_

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(One and a half Years Ago)**

_**WHUD!**_

Robin's vision followed the trail of blood he spat from the vicious uppercut dealt him. _**WHAM!**_ He slammed hard into the rusted metal floor of the Gotham shipyard warehouse. A pile of wooden crates rattled beside his twitching figure as he groaned and struggled to get back to his feet.

A pair of boots came to a calm stop beside him. A deep voice trickled down, laced with a thick Asian accent. "Look at you. You can't even land a fist against my aged body! I bet even in three decades' time, I would be able to beat you without losing so much as a sweat."

"... ... ..." Robin seethed. He squinted through a foggy eyemask at the wooden crates. Several vials of glowing green liquid rested eerily within. He imagined _twitching, motherly eyes. The cry of a dying bird._ The ringing in his ears came to a stop, revealing his growl as he kicked back to his feet, somersaulted, and flung a roundhouse kick at the tall man leering over him-

-only to have his boot caught effortlessly in a iron grip. _**SNATCH!**_ A pair of almond eyes, a bald skull, and a wry grin. "Hmph." A man in red and black twisted his grip, clasped Robin by the ankle, and flung him skyward—kicking him fiercely in the ribs on the way down. "HRAAUGH!"

_**WHUD!**_ Robin flew, bounded, bounced, but slid on his feet. Ignoring the severe bruise to his ribs, the Boy wonder produced a metal bo-staff—_Scrkkk!_-twirled it, and came charging back with a full bodied swing. "HAAAAA-"

The man effortlessly ducked the swing, side-stepped, the next, and spun backwards—catching the staff in a blind elbow, hooking his limb around it to forced Robin's body towards him, and reverse-kicking the Boy Wonder in the gut. _**WHUMP!**_

"Hckkk-!" Robin hissed, breathless-

_**CLUTCH!**_ The man spun around and forced the Boy Wonder into a headlock. "Tsk Tsk.. ...The harder you try, the more you make a fool of yourself, wannabe warrior!"

"Nnnkt...Katarou, y-you will not get away with this shipment... ... ..." Robin snarled, struggling against the much older and much stronger fighter. "T-Too many people.. ... ...will suffer from Dragonflare..."

"I care little about unintelligent people and hao they choose to hurt themselves." Katarou muttered at his hapless combatant. "I have sworn a duty to my employer, and I see to fulfill my end of the bargain. Your interference, haoever trifle, shall not hinder my task!" He growled, spun, and flung Robin hard into a metal wall of the warehouse. _**CLANG!**_

"Unnngh!" Robin slumped down, grasping twitchingly at his bo-staff in a half-hearted effort to pull himself up to his feet. "C-Can't... ...C-Can't let you..."

"HAH! Can't _let_ me, boy?" Katarou brushed a few flakes of dust off his immaculate red collar. Smirking, her dripped forth as he paced around Robin. "I've been trained by the best. But you... ...? You have flare, child. Enough to make you a good dancer. But a fighter...? No, you have much to learn. It would be out of pity, and not out of duty, if I were to kill you tonight."

"In the end... ...All evil must be punished..." Robin seethed, spitting up saliva and bile. "... ...no matter hao confident in their sin."

"Spoken like a true simpleton. You know not taste of desperation, child..." Katarou's eyes narrowed on him. "You do not know the means by which a strong soul must ascertain to stay afloat in a heartless world. Hao could you? You wear a cape and swing aloft like a winged cherub. One of these days, those wings of self-righteousness will be plucked from you. And hao will you stay alive then? Hmmm...?"

"Being a h-hero means more than staying a-alive..."

"Heh... ...Well that certainly makes my job a lot easier, yes...?" Katarou gave a mock bow, smiling.

"Y-Your last chance..." Robin pointed, gripping his bo-staff tighter. "... ...give up on the dragonflare shipment and tell me who you're working for."

"Alas, child. The last chance was already given." Two iron fists. "And it was yours-"

But Robin was already charging. "HAAAAA-!" He came low with the staff—but gasped-

-for Katarou was already flipping over him, coming down hard on the Boy Wonder's shoulders—_WHAM!_-and reverse kicking him with a heel to the skull. **WHUD!**

"NNGH-" Robin pratfalled hard to the ground, seeing stars. He barely had a time to sit up-

_TH-THUMP!_ Katarou planted his weight down on him, gripping Robin's conjoined wrists in a hard vice. "This thing I spoke of—Desperation? It is a thing laced with _**death**_. If you knew that, perhaps you would not be so foolish-"

"I _**know**_ about **_death_**..." Robin snarled, struggling.

"Is that so? Your death? No... ...I think there's only one thing you are familiar with... ... ...And that's _pain_. Allow me to remind you-" And with one jerk, Katarou dislocated the caped crusader's shoulder. _**SNAP!**_

Robin's scream echoed against the crashing waves around the shipyard.

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

**(Five and a Half Years Ago)**

"Robin, behind you!" Batgirl shouted from where she guarded the hostages.

A twelve year old Boy Wonder trembled, spun atop the rooftop, gasped, and ducked just in time to avoid the machete swing of one of the Mad Hatter's henchmen. _**SWISSH! SW-SWISSH!**_ Robin backflipped, leapt atop an a/c unit and dodged another jab. _**CLANK!**_ The thug's huge blade stuck deep into the metal box.

"Nnnngh!" Robin desperately uppercutted the man square across the job, forcing him to let go of the stuck blade and fall back into a rattling t.v. Antenna.

"Careful!" Batgirl shrieked. She was sweating profusely and bleeding from a few open patches of torn uniform from where other henchmen had managed to graze her. She and Robin formed a defensive circle around a dozen women and children who were bound to a gigantic explosive device in the center of a highrise apartment rooftop. "Don't pummel these guys too hard! They're being forced against their will!"

"You mean they're brainwashed!" Robin hissed, shivering, clutching a bleeding bruise of his own as he nervously backstepped his petite form from the incoming 'thugs'. Behind each man's ear was a numbered card—the trademark of the Mad Hatter—and the devices were doing a heinous job of mind controlling the normal citizens into murderously attacking the two heroes. "Dang it, when do Batman and Nightwing get here?"

"They're in the Batmobile, burning rubber as we speak!" Batgirl grunted, countered a jabbing thug's lunge, and tossed him lightly into a faraway stairwell entrance. _THUD!_ "Batman just paged me a minute ago. They nabbed the Mad Hatter in his lair and are bringing the disarming codes as we speak!'

Robin punched back a thug, glanced over his shoulder at the bomb's counter, reading: '_03:32'...'03:31'...'03:30'..._

"Well, they'd better bring it faster!" He panted, blocked another 'thug's' attack, and tripped him harmlessly to the ground while fending off another punch with his forearm. "Nnngh! What say nao that the Hatter's been scalped, we peel these stupid mind-control-cards off of them!"

"NO!" Batgirl shouted, jumped, split-kicked two advancing men, and wrestled with another. "Nnngh—They're a new prototype Jervis just designed! If we just _yank_ them off without proper deprogramming, we could totally short out these citizens' neurological structures!"

"HAUGH!" Robin high kicked a thug in the chin, the chest, and finally the leg, grounding him. "In English?"

"We'd turn them into vegetables!"

"Yeah, and then they'd turn into henchmen for _Poison Ivy_ next month!"

"Robin, this is serious!" Batgirl breathlessly shoved back another thug and readied a grappling hook. "We've got to keep them occupied until we can assure these families' safety—"

_**SLIIIINK!**_ One thug swung at her blind side with a dagger. A spray of blood flew from her back and splattered the surface of the bomb.

"Unnngh!" Batgirl stumbled.

"_Barb_-**BATGIRL**!" Robin shouted. Just as he spun—

"RAAUGH!" A thug pounced him, grabbed him by his cape, and threw him into a miniature radio antenna.

_**CLANG!**_ "Nnngh!" Robin bounced off the antenna, flailed in the crimson night sky of Gotham, and slammed full-force into the gravel of the rooftop. His vision blurred. His eyes teared. Confused, colliding thoughts about morning breakfast, algebra homework, a cute schoolgirl in the desk in front of him, and his mother's empty stare flickered for an epileptic moment, then faded like melting frost against a window, revealing once more the hideous sight of twelve women and children tied to a gigantic bomb—screaming—as the mind controlled goons closed in violently around them and Batgirl lying limply on the rooftop...

"N-NO!" He grit his teeth, struggled to his feet, and ran—_Crkkkk!_—Extending his bo-staff, spinning it, and sliding between two thugs. _THWAP! TH-THWUMP!_ He tripped them to the floor, hand-stood, flipped up, landed on the bomb, and spun the bo-staff a mighty three-hundred-and-sixty-yelling-degrees around. "Yaaaaaaaaaugh!"

_**Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Whap!**_ He knocked five or six brainwashed henchmen back. Two more advanced on Batgirl. Robin somersaulted off the bomb, kicked up to his feet, kneed one thug in the chest, and slammed the staff down over the foot of another—forcing them to stumble back and limp into crimson obscurity.

"B-Batgirl..." Robin panted. Breathless. "Get up. I need you—"

"Aaaaaaugh!" One of the mothers shrieked.

Robin spun. His eyemasked widened.

A distant thug, the card sparkling behind his ear, was yanking zombily from the handle of the machete that had embedded in the a/c unit, slowly jerking the blade loose—

"Nnngh!" Robin vaulted over the bomb, kicked two men aside, and began to charge the far off thug—

The man turned to face Robin with a vacant stare. A programmed growl, and he produced a fan of daggers. _CHIIIING!_ "HAA!" He flung them all at once.

Robin skidded to a stop in the gravel, twirled his bo-staff like mad, and deflected two of the flying knives. _**CL-CLANK!**_ But the third one—_SLIIIINK!_ It sliced a deep, red river through his left ankle.

"Aaa-Aaaugh!" Robin hobbled and fell down to his knees.

"Nnngh!" **YANK!** In Robin's peripheral vision, the thug in question finally pulled the machete out and marched icily towards him.

Robin crawled on all fours, wincing hard. He looked up amidst his waves of pain and found himself staring point blanc into the faces of the horrified family members. In two pairs of children's eyes, he saw him—the man, reflected, like a demon—charging straight at Robin's backside at full speed, wielding the machete overhead like a scorpion stinger.

Robin tensed his muscles. Blindly, he patted his hand left, right, left across the gravel for his bo-staff_—there_—and spun about, flinging the weapon in full force. "YAAAA—"_** CLANGGGG-**__**THNKKT**__**!**_

"..." And Robin froze, his jaw agape.

"..." The man's jaw was also agape, but for another reason. The Boy Wonder's bo-staff had deflected the machete four inches deep into the man's neck, and his mouth hung loosely, bloodily...Then disappeared as the twitching soul's eyes rolled back and his body collapsed to the ground in a scarlet heap.

And it was then that one of the children whom the eyes belonged to quivered and let forth: "D-Daddy...?"

Robin flashed a wide eyemask at the kid, then back at the corpse. The card behind the body's ear sparked once...twice...then fizzled. And he was stiller than metal.

"..." Robin stared. Even when Batgirl finally got to her feet and finished the fight, he stared. Even when Nightwing and Batman arrived just within the ten final seconds to disarm the bomb, he stared. During the ride home in the Batmobile, in the shower, at the dining room table of the Manor as Barbara tried in vain to shake him out of it for two hours, Tim stared at the first man he had ever killed, and wouldn't stop, even for the next ten nights, in the darkest recesses of his thoughts, when even the saltiest of tears couldn't burn the blood away.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Seven and a half years ago)**

**WHAM!**

Tim stumbled back into the alley wall. "Ooomf!" A fresh, knuckle-shaped bruise welted across his cheek. But he refused to cry. He refused. Clenching his fists, he squinted two moist eyes and stubbornly marched back towards the boy who punched him. "Give it **back**! I found them **first**!"

"Hah hah hah!" A tall, muscular fourteen year old triumphantly cradled a box of fresh donuts. "All of this for a crappy snack that you swiped from some old pig with a billy club? Man, if you're proud of that, wait till your balls drop, kid. You'll crap a mountain!"

"Yeah, you tell 'em, Jake!" a smaller, more spidery waif of an adolescent slapped his knee beside the tall one and laughed. "Hah hah hah!"

"Shuddup, Mickey."

"Ahem. Yes, Jake."

"I said—Give them BACK!" Tim all-but-hissed, his hands raised.

"OHHHHHH-OHHHH! Whatcha gonna do, pipsqueak? I decked you once, and that was with my left hand—"

_**WHUMP!**_ Tim whalloped him as hard in the shoulder as he could.

Jake actually stumbled half a foot before shoving the very same shoulder in question back. "HNNNGH!"

"Ooof!" Tim stumbled.

Jake grinned evilly. "Here, Mickey. Hold this..."

"S-Sure thing, Jake."

Jake cracked his neck muscles and then his knuckles. "This kid needs to learn a lesson. Which of his teeth do you want?"

"For the last time..." Tim hopped, scrambled, grabbed—grabbed for the box. "Give it back—"

_**THUD!**_ Jake slammed Tim hard in the rib cage.

Tim reeled—

_**WHACK!**_ Jake kicked Tim in the shins.

Tim hopped, winced—

_**CRACKKKK!**_

A hard uppercut sent Tim spiraling, tumbling, and crashing amidst a forest of trash cans. A cat squealed and darted down the darklit street. A dog barked in the distance.

"I'm sorry, what was that? You want those donuts? Well, that's kind of a problem, kid, seeing that they're **mine**." Jake leered over Tim's battered figure.

"_Yeah, you show him, Jake—"_

"Mickey, shut up and count his teeth."

"_Y-Yeah, okay..."_

"Nnngh!" Jake forced Tim up to his feet and gripped him by the collar. "Is your sweettooth worth that much to get beat up for? If so, allow me to knock it out for ya, shrimp! Heh heh heh…"

"Th-They're not...f-for me..." Tim wheezed. A trickle of blood came out the corner of his mouth as he squinted up at the bully. "...th-they're for my mom. She h-hasn't eaten in days."

"Well, sounds like that's your old man's fault!" Jake smirked. "Maybe if he was the one laying in on ya and not me, you'd be a man and do something about it!"

Tim's eyes narrowed—coldly—all of the sudden. Beyond Jake's sight, Tim reached a hand into his own jacket's pocket. "I'm...warning you for the l-last time...Give it back, or else."

"Or else _what?"_ Jake spat. "That's **it. **I'm sick of this. You're mouth is oatmeal."

Tim sneered. "Have it your way..." _Snkkt!_ A piece of metal extended out from his finger-grasp. "NNNGH—" _**CLANGGGG!**_ He slammed the blunt, metal surface of a batarang across the fourteen-year-old's face.

Jake's nose bled a fountain. He stumbled back, gripping his face. "Mmmmfff! Mmmff-Mmnng! Mmmmfmyy! Mmmmf_mmmyyyyy_!"

Mickey gasped and shivered, the donuts rattling in his grip.

Tim marched icily towards Jake. He flicked his wrist and extended the last few inches of the stray batarang. _SHIIIING!_ It glistened red in the Gotham moonlight.

Jake's eyes widened at the sight of it. He shook his head and pleaded mutely for mercy... mercy... mercy...

Tim started.

Jake fell back, hit his head on a trash can, and wilted in a fetal position. A wet spot formed on his jeans' fly as he clutched his head protectively and scrunched away from Tim's weapon. "Hhnnnnngh-Hnnnngh—Hnnnngh!" He sobbed.

"..." _Crkkk!_ Tim retracted the weapon and stood up straight, stretching his bruised neck and shoulders. "..." He glared over towards Mickey.

The thin boy stumbled back against a brick wall. "L-Look...I'm sorry, man! H-He's sorry! We're all sorry! We were j-just hungry! Like you! Everyone's h-h-hungry, d-dude!"

"..." Tim came to a dead stop in front of the boy, frowned, and held his hand out. "Give. Them. Back. To. Me."

Mickey did so, shakily. As soon as Tim snatched the box back, he scrunched up against the wall and slouched down, staring at Jake—then at the batarang in Tim's jacket pocket. "Man...Th-That thing's like a pocket knife! You could have cut us up real good!"

"I didn't." Tim mumbled, examining the donuts inside the box.

"He beat the everliving sn-snot out of you, and yet you didn't even dice him up..." Mickey gulped. "H-How come?"

Tim took a deep breath. He flexed the fingers of his right hand. "Because I'm better."

"Better?" Mickey blinked, trembled. "B-Better than what?"

_**WHUMP!**_ Tim punched Mickey square in the gut with his right fist.

Mickey's air left his lungs. He doubled over, wheezed, and fell unconscious besides the sobbing Jake.

Tim sighed, knelt down, and tossed four out of the nine donuts down beside their wilted figures.

"Exactly."

He limped all the way back home, clutching the precious box of sweets. He laid them out in front of his mother in the kitchen. The next morning, they were still there.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Twelve Years Ago)**

He spent all afternoon doing it.

Stacking books on top of each other. Encyclopedias. Phone directories. Finally, he resorted to incorporating a suitcase or two—but he finally did it. He built himself a veritable mountain of clutter, a mountain which he climbed... ...and it finally afforded him a chance to look out the window, and see for his eager little five year old self an unobstructed view of the Gotham City skyline.

What he got was a lot less majestic. A vertical forest of black metal bars pierced a blood red night's sky. And before that—covered with emotionless ants—was a lifeless pigeon, its bones exposed to the moonlight.

"Eww... ... ...Mommy, do you see this?" Timothy Drake murmured as he leaned precariously on the top of his self-built tower. "They're eating it...! They're all over it..."

Silence.

Panting, struggling with the effort to keep himself upright, the boy gazed back.

"M-Mommy... ...?"

"Mmmf... ..." A blonde head faced away from him, belonging to a body that was slumped over the top of a table in the center of a sparsely decorated apartment kitchen. Wallpaper peeled against the far wall, mystically framing her scarecrow body in forced perspective. "Mmmf—Mommy is sleeping, honey... ..." She lied. Mostly to herself.

"But they're eating it.. ...Why would ants eat a pigeon? It's so big..." He scrunched up his face.

"Nngh...Fuuu..." Her arms swam icily across the table top. An empty glass tube or two rolled around like compass needles as her wrists made streaks out of green tears. "B-Because... ...because honey... ..." She choked, strung somewhere between a laugh and a sob as she hugged herself amidst the cocoon of shouts and television screams bleeding through the apartment walls. ".. ...b-because every b-bird must someday die... ...heheh...mmf..."

He looked back at her. Blinking. Confused. "But...b-but what-?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 23, 2005...Today)**

"_But what if it's at night, Mommy?"_ The teenage Boy Wonder murmured to the shadows, his breath catching up with his thoughts. A rustling noise—and he suddenly and fitfully jerked.

The Sixth Suite had barely started. The cello strings had barely meandered down the estuary of beautific sound. The first held breath of the audience hadn't yet released-

Yet Robin heard something amiss. Something piercing down the center of it, gently prodding the ceiling of symphony—but altogether shattering his brief distraction.

His head spun, glaring at all shadows of the ceiling, shadows that were stone-still in direct opposition to the momentary stirring that his trained ears undoubtedly detected.

"_Unsexy... ..."_ He murmured allowed in a deep gluttural sound. _"Definitely, definitely unsexy..."_

"What's all the twitching about, Boy Wonder?" The shape of Detective Cid wandered in from the sideline, on another leg of her backstage rounds. "You look like you've seen a ghost-"

"Shhh—I need to concentrate."

She saw the cape's gaze towards the ceiling, his gloved hands clutching hard to the bo-staff. "Hoo boy!" _Ch-Chtunk!_ She whipped out her .45 and gazed skyward. "I knew this wouldn't be a quiet evening-"

"Put your gun away-!" Robin sneered.

"I swear, kiddo. If you and your damned lot of metapeops attracted some arch enemy from Metropolis or what-crap, Kneehouse is gonna be sorely pissed."

Robin sighed and glanced aside. "Look, Detective-"

_Swisssssssssssh-**CLANK!**_

"GAH!" Cid jumped.

"... ...!" Robin spun, blinking, as his eyemask rested on an object wobbling to a stand-still on the very tip of his grasped bo-staff. In the cold blue light of a backstage lantern, a playing card could be seen sticking out of the naked metal—a Five of Diamonds. He squinted harder, for he could almost make out a frothing trail of black mist coming from the edges of it. Almost like- "Smoke...?" And the card was once more an ordinary playing card, quite extraordinarily piercing the thick metal of his staff.

"What in the Blue Hell is that?" Cid breathily remarked, her eyes wide. She gazed helplessly towards the Concert Hall's rafters. "Robin, where did that come from-?"

"Wait..." The Boy Wonder held a hand up. At the angle at which he was holding the bo-staff when the projectile hit, there was obviously no way that the unseen assailant had meant to actually inflict damage on his person, unless the person's aim was _really_ bad. Much rather, the card _meant_ to find its way to the bo-staff. Which meant... "It's a message..." He reached to the card and swiftly plucked it loose from the metal. _Clink!_ He held it to his eyemask, and sure enough—there was a message. A few haggard words desperately etched in the _blackest_ ink.

_**'Kobayashi. Under. Attack. Scan. Visual. Spectrum.'**_

"... ... ..." Robin gazed up from the card. He then flashed a glance towards the auditorium beyond the curtain.

"What is this—Some kind of a game?" Cid scratched her bushy hair as she gazed over the Boy Wonder's shoulder.

"Yes... ...And there's a wildcard... ..." Robin hissed. He ran towards the sidestage, his mask'd gaze covering every square centimeter of the ceiling as he whipped out his communicator and shouted into it: "Cyborg! Robin here! We've got trouble!"

Victor's figure stirred in Robin's peripheral, reaching to his communicator: _"Cyborg here. What gives?"_

"We have an attacker!" Stood vigilantly along the side of the auditorium. "Somewhere in the building!"

"_Oh my god."_

"_X'hal!"_

"_Dude, hao in the wide world of sports do you know that-?"_

"No time!" Robin seethed through clenched teeth as his gaze fell over the unprotected, unassuming form of Kensuke Kobayashi. "Cyborg, you've got the eye! Scan all around you on multiple wavelengths!"

"On it!" Cyborg raised a hand to his red eye—causing the optical piece to flicker through various shades as he scanned icily across the heads of the audience. "I swear to God, if someone's trying to take out Maddie-"

Robin's glove fingered the Five of Diamonds. "It isn't Madeline! It's Kensu-"

But before his words could be finished, the blue form of Raven skirted out from the shadows on the distant perimeter of the place, pointing upwards: _"Front in center."_

The Boy Wonder's mask flashed upwards. He blinked—and there, in the center of the Concert Hall's rafters—a shadow against shadows—and forthwith from the center there glowed an orange circle, a laser cannon about to discharge: "Cyborg-!"

Victor froze. _"I see it!" _The android's limbs started to shift and surge in the slow motion adrenaline of the moment. It would not be fast enough. Nothing could be fast enough.

This didn't stop Robin from flashing a hand to his belt, whipping out a birdarang, and flinging it murderously towards the sight of the suddenly visible laser barrel-

_**P-PHOOM!**_ The technological weapon in question let loose its orange blast. A golden orb of deathly hot plasma surged downwards from the rafters and towards Kobayashi Kensuke's helpless skull. The spinning blades of the birdarang formed bouncing rainbows against the brief but violent burst of amber light. Everything was going too slow—everything but the orange plasma burst that was eating its way towards Madeline's unsuspecting father.

Robin's breath left him, the bo-staff almost falling from his grasp. _Victor Stone's ace had failed._

"_Dammit-_" The young man could be heard shrieking from mid dive. "-_NO!"_

At the last millisecond, Kobayashi glanced up—his almond eyes reflecting hot flaming yellow in mid-blink. The hairs on his head started to curl and bend-

_**FLASSSSSH!**_

Robin's breath returned, his body lurching—as the golden glow was canceled out in a snuffing wink. An obsidian glow permeated the arena, as the plasma pulse was stopped just half an inch from the mayoral candidate's flesh, cocooned in a sphere of billowing blackness...

...as Raven stood from her end of the spell, her fingers flexed meditatively, extending her soul self with every sweating piece of her might—having caught the projectile in the nick of time.

Then, in the next beating second, the room exploded in noise.

_**THUD!**_ Cyborg landed in a pair of seats, abandoned by fleeing occupants. "Kobasyashi-san-"

"A-AUGH!" Kobayashi flinched away at the midair phenomenon hovering less than a foot from his sweating skull.

_Th-Thap!_ Madeline's violin bow fell to the stage floor as she stood up, panting. "D-Daddy...?"

_SWOOOOSH!_ Stargirl flew down directly in front of Madeline as several bodyguards clasped the frightened and confused cello player, forcing her to duck low.

_THWISSSH!_ Starfire sailed down—gaping at the fiery projectile enshrouded in Raven's telekinetic grasp. "X'hal-!"

"_Dude!"_ The elfin sihlouette of Beast Boy shouted and pointed upwards from the doorway to the front atrium. "_Look above-"_

_**CLANK!**_ Yellow sparks of metal against metal. Robin's gaze snapped skyward. His birdarang had just struck rock-hard against the barrel of the attacker's laser rifle. A jolt, and for the briefest of blinks, a figure solidified with a criss-crossing ripple of electrical energy beams. A sizzling noise, and the bolts of lightning dissipated—followed by the scurrying escape of a distorted bubble of shadows, heading butterfly-fast towards the edge of the Concert Hall's rafters.

Robin was already reaching for his grappling hook when Cyborg—leaping into the crowd and sheltering Kobayashi with his titanium body—gave the floating orb of contained plasma an inhuman snarl. "Raven—Get that thing out of here-"

"Having... ...Enough trouble... ...As it is-" The sorceress struggled and hissed. "Could use some help-"

"Allow me!" Starfire bravely clasped the increasingly distorted ball of black-and-gold surging energy. "But where-"

"Anywhere but here!" Cyborg shouted above a panicked crowd of gasping, shouting, and murmuring people. "Everyone else—AFTER THAT PUNK-!"

"Nnnngh!" Starfire clutched the thing to her chest and soared directly towards the exit, ignoring the door—_**SMASSSSH!**_

_**POW!**_-Robin fired his grappling hook and soared upwards into the rafters, his masked eyes affixed on the fleeing distortion in the shape of a body. He didn't dare to breathe, didn't dare to stumble—or else risk losing sight of the sightless target clambering through a mantenance crawlspace. _TH-THAP!_ Robin hit the ceiling, grabbed a handful of railing, swung, ducked, dashed, slid, bounded, and kicked his way through the hatch—**CLANK!**-and out into the starry Jump City night, running over the rooftop, as somewhere overhead and above, a brave Tamaranian flung the deathly energy projectile seaword with a grunt and-

_**KAPOWWWW!**_

Robin's world spun.


	16. Be Joined

"Everyone else—" Cyborg shouted and jabbed a metal finger skyward from where he hunched protectively over Kensuke Kobayashi's trembling body. "AFTER THAT PUNK-!"

Across a sea of clamoring, murmuring, panicking heads—Victor Stone's voice thundered heavily; so that Beast Boy, standing alone at the wide entrance to the atrium, had to grip his pointed ears for fear of them being shaken off his skull.

"Yeesh! On it! No need to go System of a Down on my lobes!" The green elf spun, dashed past a few straggling and confused onlookers, and burst through the revolving door of the Vaughan Concert Hall. He panted and pointed his emerald skull skyward. "Of course, it'd help to know what I was looking for..."

A deep breath, and the elfling shrunk down into a green basset hound, sniffing the street, the cars, the lampposts—until its nose tilted expertly into the air, got a great whiff of the heart-pounding night, and let loose an intellectual bark before growing back up into a head-scratching biped.

"Yeah, okay. I have no clue-"

A pattering of boots, and a tiny trickle of brickwork and plaster littered his fuzzy head from above.

"H-Huh?"

He glanced up and his eyes twitched to witness the shadowy form of a figure translucently obscuring the edge of an adjacent three story building's rooftop.

"Unless you're running from Peter Pan, I don't think you belong here-" The former Doom Patroller smirked with a glinting tooth, ran up the buildingside, kicked off, and morphed into a cawing bird in mid-air. The emerald fowl flew up over the edge of the building, spun, and landed as a green cheetah.

Bright eyes scanned the urban horizon—found the distortion soaring swiftly towards the far edge of the rooftop; and Beast Boy flexed his feline legs to give pursuit, when—_**KAPOWWWW!**_

A huge concussion blast knocked the shapeshifter off his paws. "Grrfff!" He rolled, rolled, rolled, and came to an aching stop in humanoid form. Rubbing his fuzzy head, he grunted and gazed up at a dissipating cloud of yellow-and-gold flame. "Holy crud.. ... ...St-Starfire...?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(Sixty Seconds Earlier)

"Everyone else—AFTER THAT PUNK-!" Victor shouted as various superheroes fled every which way from his command. He leaned against Kobayashi, patting the old man's shoulders. "You okay there, sir?"

"Madeline!" Kobayashi struggled to hiss under the rising noise of panicked theatre-goers around them. "Is she-?"

"She is fine. Stargirl is with her, and your hired hands are all over the place-"

"What was that just nao?" Kobayashi shuddered. "I knew that... ...I likely had enemies—But nothing of this sort-"

"And we'll get to the bottom of it, Kobayashi-san. Lemme just get you somewhere safe while my team apprehends the suspect-"

"Why... ...am I not dead?" The corporate emperor smoothed back his peppery hair, shaking visibly. "What on earth.. ...was that otherworldly light... ...?"

"If I didn't know better, I say you owe your life to our resident sorceress, Raven. Not to mention-"

_**KAPOWWWW!**_ The entire Vaughan Concert Hall shook. Kobayashi gasped. Men and women shrieked. Scrambling people fell to their knees from the tremor, and then it was over as quickly and as maddeningly as it began.

Victor gasped, his human eye twitching as he turned and gazed blindly through the opaque structure of the Hall's interior. "Koriand'r... ... ...Kobayashi-san, stay here! Wait for the police!" And he went bounding straight towards the nearest exit...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(Sixty Seconds Earlier)

"Everyone else—AFTER THAT PUNK!"

"Wh-Who... ...?" Madeline Kobayashi panted, hyperventilating-

"The suspect is fleeing and we're in pursuit!" Stargirl shouted within earshot of Raven and Cyborg. She began to take off with her cosmic rod-

"But what of my dad-?" Madeline gasped, jerking back and forth in the arms of several bodyguards attempting to drag her off stage. "Is he okay? I can't hear-"

Stargirl briefly lowered to plant a glove on Madeline's shoulder. "He's fine! He's alive! He isn't hurt—Nao stick with your dad's men!" The braced blonde soared over their heads and bolted into the backstage area, heading towards the rear exit to get another angle on the pursuit. She darted over fleeing bodies, panicked voices, and gasping faces as she made straight towards the double doors beneath a glowing sign-

-and plowed directly into a bushy-haired woman with a cell phone. _**WHAP!**_

"Augh!"

Stargirl collapsed to the ground, clutching her cosmic rod. She gasped and glanced aside at the woman in the trenchcoat, on all fours—clasping around for her phone. The flash of a badge.

"S-So sorry, detective—Here you go-" Stargirl grabbed the flickering phone in question and tossed it into the sleuth's grasp. "I-I can't stay here any longer! If you want to help, I think the suspect is heading northwest!"

"Duly noted. Go—_Go!"_ Cid shouted.

Courtney twirled her cosmic rod, bolted out the door, ran, leapt, and flew over the billowing waves of the Bay. She was just arching her way west and northwest-when the golden reflection of something shot out from underneath her.

"H-Huh?" Stargirl gazed up in time to see a billowing orb of light flittering overhead, and just a few meters away, the lunging form of Starfire-

_**KAPOWWWW!**_

A huge fireball of raging plasma encompassed all of Courtney's vision. The girl winced and squinted under her mask before gasping, hovering, shrieking upwards into the flame and chaos:

"**KORY!"**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(Sixty Seconds Earlier)

"Everyone else—AFTER THAT PUNK!"

Raven shuddered. She struggled to hear Cyborg's words, fought to feel Starfire's soul beyond the mess of chaos—But the _**emotion**_of the room was so explosively frightening, so venemously laced with panic and hysteria—that she could barely stand on two feet. She clutched two hands to her blue head, groaned, and hissed loudly. Finally, eyes tearing, she flung a wrist to the left and opened a black portal in the bare wall of the theatre. Limping, she side-stepped through it—and emerged onto the rooftop of a building two blocks down.

"Nnnnghhh!"

She stumbled onto the rooftop, fell to her knees, and regained her breath... ...panting...panting.

"Must gain control... ...Must be better at this... ..." She clenched her teeth and stared over the rooftops towards the spotlight flaring locale of the Vaughan Concert Hall. "I've had my training. I've meditated and meditated... ...mustn't fail nao. Azar help me, Rali... ..."

A shuddering breath, and the blue sorceress hovered up into the air, meditatively flexed her fingers, and soared once more towards the Bay, her heart pulsing with each street that she passed underneath, as she drifted over rooftop after rooftop after rooftop-

And she finally spotted someone, a familiar someone, a familiar green someone. Beast Boy was dashing across a roof in full feline flight, muscles flexing in the speeded effort. Raven's adrenalized brain worked in full gear. She gazed ahead of Beast Boy, narrowed her sights on the edge of his buildingtop, and saw a tiny distortion of light—moving swiftly.

Raven chanted a spell of concentration and extended her soul self forward to get a reading on the suspect-

_**KAPOWWWW!**_

Raven rocked in mid-air. Below her, Beast Boy stumbled. The air heated up and warbled from a huge plasma blast—and a soul suddenly blipped out of Raven's metaphysical 'radar'. She gasped and gazed south towards the Bay, above the waters—over which a huge plume of flame billowed.

"Starfire... ..." She murmured.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(Sixty Seconds Earlier)

"Everyone else—AFTER THAT PUNK!"

"Nnnnngh!" Starfire gripped the warbling ball of soul energy in her iron-wrought fingers. With each accelerated burst of flight, she felt the core of burning plasma rupturing outward more and more. She knew better than to doubt Raven's ability of shielding all manners of dangerous elements with her spiritual barriers, but this was something else entirely. Something about this energy projectile felt inhuman, unearthly—and reminded her of many a various arsenal she had fled from in her panicked and breathless escapades in space.

She would be cursed by X'hal if she allowed her strength to falter nao—nao that she had worked so hard to blend in with her Terran cohorts, nao that she had donated all of her gifts and all of her knowledge and all of her faith in their pursuit of an elusive adversary. In a universe full of suffering and exploitation, the only assured element of righteousness she could lean on was herself. And, blessed by X'hal, she would live another day to perpetuate the spirit of peace she had believed in long before she bled for it.

The alien girl bore through a few flimsy walls of the Vaughan Concert Hall—_**P-POW!—**_disentangled herself from a half dozen metal support lattices—_**CL-CLANG!—**_and soared effortlessly over the dark firmaments of Jump City Bay. The swathing searchlights of the gala event sliced past her as she roared at the tip of her emerald momentum and scanned the watery horizon with twitching eyes for any signs of life. Bare weeks of surveying this landscape taught her that the most vulnerable of beings could be dwelling anywhere and at anytime.

When she finally found a patch of water safe enough, and harmless enough, for the ensuing discharge—she stretched her body, spun once, twice, and lunged with a desperate fling of the fluctuating device...

She did not realize the extent to which the thing was rupturing until she saw the slow motion descent of the projectile before her lopsided eyes—and Raven's soul self peeling away with a single gasp.

"X'hal-"

_**KAPOWWWW!**_

Then...**flames**.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Robin thought he heard pounding techno music, the rattling of a cylindrical capsule, a woman's dark words echoing across a giant cave, a child weeping under Gotham night for his dead father—and soon the electronic beat descended into his pumping heart. It turned out the Boy Wonder wasn't listening to anything, for his skull was full with a dull ringing noise. And just as his foggy eyes opened to discern the source of the numbness—a bright swath of searchlights stabbed him from under his mask.

He rolled over for what felt like hours, the world liquidly churning to twirl around him. And he soon realized that he was lying throbbily on the rooftop to the Vaughan Concert Hall, that a vapor of distorted night sky was settling above him, that dust from a monumentous explosion was just starting to settle about his prone figure, and that the broad blue shadow of Jump City Bay stretched to his right side... ...about to swallow the free falling figure of an alien redhead-

"... ... ..!" Robin shouted something. He couldn't hear himself. He gasped to see the world rocking below and the edge of the Conert Hall's rooftop soaring toward him—before he realized that his body had bounded to its feet. In a blink, he regained sentient control of his limbs, and stretched out a hand instinctually holding a grappling hook. He lunged over the rooftop, fired his cable at the neck of a wharfside lamp, and swung like a steel-booted pendulum towards the plummeting form of Starfire. The tongues and whisps of plasma flame were still dissipating as he bore through the heated cloud and effortlessly snatched her with a crooked forearm. He pulled a latch on the grappling hook, and the doubly weighted pair of teenagers swung back—swiftly—so that the Boy Wonder landed the two of them with a tumble—just as the ringing stopped and the catastrophic noise of the world rushed back to screaming clarity inside his eardrums.

The cascade of thunder. Falling bits of shrapnel into the Bay Water. Chirping car alarms, police sirens. The clamoring footsteps and screams of fleeing concert-goers.

"Nnnnngh..." Starfire murmured, stirring, sounding the sweetest of all against the bedlam.

"R-Robin!" Stargirl swept down from the backside of the Concert Hall. She touched down to her boots and leaned against the cosmic rod beside the two teenagers. "That was amazing, what you just did! Is she-?"

"I don't know..." Robin rubbed his aching head, wincing.

"I do not appear to be damaged... ..." Koriand'r sputtered to say, no less dazed.

"That was a brave thing you did, Starfire." Stargirl smiled breathlessly. "Wait right here, I'll page Dr. Hunnicutt-"

"**No**." Robin hobbled up to shaky legs. "You heard Cyborg. The suspect is getting away. We're in pursuit."

"But-"

"You're the fastest on our team, you should be on it." Robin jabbed a finger northwesterly. "**Take to the skies!"**

"R-Right!" Stargirl glanced reluctantly at Starfire, bounded away, and leapt into a golden blur as she soared over the nearby rooftops.

"Gan'r yaasul de X'hal..." Starfire rubbed and flexed her shoulder, wincing.

"Is that some sort of prayer?" Robin breathily remarked.

"Something to that extent... ..." Starfire brushed flakes of ash and soot off her and glanced up at him. "Would you like a prayer?"

"Just might need one." Robin turned around and started pacing towards the far side of the Concert Hall. "Cyborg. This is Robin. Starfire's safe. Stargirl's in-"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_-pursuit of the suspect."_

Cyborg slide, shuffled, and knifed his way through the thick soup of panicked citizens. "Can Starfire still give chase?"

"_Affirmative."_

"Starfire—If you can hear me. Take ten minutes to breathe. No longer—We're gonna need you, girl."

"_I shall not fail you, Victor."_

"Good—_nnngh—_Has anyone got-" Cyborg finally burst out of the sardine can of a Concert Hall and into the cool naked night. He gazed upwards, marching slowly out of the noisy bubble of the panicked theatre-goers. "-a positive ID on the attacker?"

"_I didn't see who did it! Did you?"_

Cyborg frowned. "That's why I'm **asking**, Courtney..." He grumbled.

_**VROOOOSH!**_ The burning golden figure of the Star Spangled Kid soared overhead, surging towards the northwest and causing many a head to turn. _"I think Beast Boy and Raven were on his tail-"_

"_Snkkt—Cyborg. This is Raven."_

"Talk to me, girl..." Cyborg uttered breathlessly.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Raven levitated purpley over the gray haze of nightshrouded Jump City. Criss crossing streets, L-Tracks, and highway overpasses formed a maze of grit and grain as she gently billowed towards the lopsided horizon—her regal eyes fixed studiously below.

"My soul self has memorized his telepathic imprint—But I can't fixate on his exact position. All I know is that he's moved just past Twelfth and Hampton, skirting the north edge of the Southern Industrial District. It'd help a lot more if he wasn't invisible."

"_What about BB?"_

"I think he sees him somehao—But I can't get through to him."

"_Snkkt—Beast Boy can't talk-"_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"-while in animal form!" Robin ran into an alleyway half a block away from the Concert Hall. He held the communicator up to his ear in one hand while another glove flicked the switch of a remote.

_Chirp-Chirp!_ A lone R-Cycle lit up from behind a dumpster. Steely black plates of armor retracted just in time for him to jump, saddle up, and grab his helmet.

"Beast Boy—If you can hear this, pay attention. Raven is above you. But she needs a visual confirmation if she's to lend a hand!"

Robin finished, clasped the helmet over his head, and revved the R-Cycle to life. _**VRMMMM-SCREEEEEECH-ZMMMMMMMM!**_ He bolted like a red blur down the streets of Jump City.

"_Snkkkt—Raven. Wait for Beast Boy's signal and see-"_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"-if you can ensnare the assassin so we can engage!" Cyborg shouted as he ran down a sidewalk, the piers and waters of Jump City glistening in the starlight abreast of him. "Try and delay him until the rest of us get there! I don't want any lone heroics! This sucker's packing heat!"

"_Understood! Beast Boy, we're waiting-"_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_-on your signal!"_

The cheetah's pale eyes narrowed. It bounded over rooftop after rooftop, its paws spilling gravel loose into the night's air as it skirted left, right, forward, and and right again—trailing an invisible scent. The wind started growing hotter, a dull and metallic hum filling the city block around it as the shapeshifter got closer.

_But closer to what?_

"Grfff..." The cheetah leapt over the space of a street, morphed into an albatross in midair, flapped its wings twice, and morphed into a bloodhound—landing with a clawed skid across the rooftop for two meters before sniffing... ...sniffing...a jolt—_fwoosh!—_and Beast Boy darted left in the form of a squirrel, skittered over a telephone wire, leapt down onto a balcony, swung around an apartment complex's corner as a chimpanzee, double-flipped, sailed as a condor—and landed on another rooftop as a cheetah again...crossing the distance.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"... ... ..." Raven's eyes narrowed.

She hovered, hovered, hovered... ...drifting in an agonizing slowness over the scampering emerald figure of the changeling. She flexed her fingers—digits sparkling with obsidian energy—as she waited at a moment's breath to launch her soul-self downwards at the distant rooftops.

"... ... ... "

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Cyborg huffed, puffed... ...His human half compensating for the metal portion's endless stamina. He groaned as he came upon a rising hill of asphalt, limping his way through dazed and confused traffic like a shirtless Mel Gibson to reach the western edge of Downtown.

"Dammit to El Dandy... ...I need a frickin' Car." He snarled and pumped his way up the sloping sidewalk. "Call it the Goddam Stonemobile.. ... ...or Vic's Spokes... ...Nnngh... ...Still, there's always the backup plan-"

Something built into his forearm beeped suddenly.

"The Hell.. ...?" He gazed at the digital display. His built-in sensors had picked up a strange carrier signal a few minutes ago. He instantly recognized it as the moment the suspect took flight. "What have we got here... ...?" He lurched to a jog briefly to plink away at the built-in datapad in his wrist, but he was at a loss to trace the signal. "Hrmmph... ...Could mean something, could be a bug. Either way... ...Less thinking and more running... ..."

He lurched ahead, groaning to hear the distant sound of the R-Cycle.

"Uggggh-I need a mother fluffin' **CAR**!"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_Th-Thap!_ The paws of an emerald tiger bounded over an apartment rooftop. It bounced over a/c units, around tv antennae, and past stairwells. A great space in buildings yawned as Jump City Park loomed in the horizon, marking the western edge of Downtown. And in the center of the bobbing scenery-

The feline's eyes narrowed.

There was a fluctuation of light, billowing, the size of a person—but suddenly obscured by a polka-dotted nightgown. _**RIIIIIP!**_ Beast Boy morphed into a rhino just in time to tear loose the dangling clothesline of laundry pillowing over his face. He snorted, leapt as a coyote, and bounced over a few metal vents as he gazed tighter at the flickering sight, a flickering sight that was moving ahead of him... ...fast.

He didn't want to take any chances. So, with a huge breath, he sucked in his emerald gut, leapt high, spun as an armadillo for distance, and morphed into a flittering fruitbat. A sonic chirp warbled through the air—with its echo bouncing back—and the thing touched down as a kangaroo at the edge of the rooftop, bounced mightily off, and morphed into a flipping elf in midair, just briefly enough to shout into his communicator before surging back into a prairie falcon:

"**Two buildings ahead! The silver, ten-story skyscraper-**"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_-Suspect is at nine o'clock low, Raven! Get him!"_

Raven's eyes flickered and darted all over the building. She gritted her teeth and seethed:

"Blast it—I can't see him-!"

"_Here!"_ **WHOOSH! **Stargirl flew up beside the sorceress and aimed her cosmic rod down. "Lemme give you a light." _**FLAAAAAAAASH!**_ A steady golden beam burned down towards the announced building in question. A bright yellow spotlight glistened off the surface, and just at the edge of it—charging with translucent and flailing legs to leap mightily-

"Azarath Metreon ZINTHOS!" Raven hissed, flicking her wrists forward—_**FLASH!**_ Two bolts of black energy soared straight down towards the half-visible figure and slapped over his legs.

Stargirl shouted: "There! Beast Boy! Raven's-"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_-got him! Take him down!"_

The distorted human figure lurched to a stop, teetering on the edge. He briefly reached down to disentangle himself from the shackles of the shimmering soul-self—but ultimately jerked about to stare directly head on into the source of the communicator transmission.

_**THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD!**_ A green triceratops barreled into him, horns rearing

**SLAM!** The suspect flew straight out into the starry night sky, his limbs sparkling in and out of the visual spectrum-

_TH-THWPP!_ An anteater's tongue whipped around the assassin's forearm. _YANK!_ Tongue retracted, Beast Boy narrowed the distance between the two and morphed around the figure as a boa constrictor, holding his limbs down to its side as the suspect fell, fell, fell—and collapsed hard into the street blow.

_**KAPOWWW!**_ A crater formed in the center of the road. Off to the side, a dozen people boarding a commercial bus gasped, shrieked, and hid behind the lurching vehicle in question.

_**Zzzzt—FLASH!**_ A burst of sparks, and a sizzling boa constructor flew off in the form of a tumbling elf. _Th-Th-Thap!_ "Unnngh... ..." Beast Boy sat up, rubbing his head. "Last time I do the tango with a living toaster ten stories high..."

_**Zzzzt-Zzzt!**_

The changeling looked up.

The figure stood, limping in the center of the crater. A wall of distorted light flew up and down his limbs and torso as he locked two gloves out, armed with wristband plasma cannons. _Vriiiiii-!_

Beast Boy's eyes bulged. "Yeah, I, uh...**no**." He gasped and shrunk into a field mouse.

_**PHOOM! PH-PH-PHOOM!**_ Bursts of golden energy, and several amber projectiles were launched murderously towards the young hero.

The green rodent darted left, right, right, left—barely dodging the blasts. Bus commuters shouted and ran down the sidewalk as the creature scurried up a parked car, bounded off as a flying squirrel, dodged a blast in midair, and slammed straight into the flickering figure's chest as a ram.

_**BZZZZT!**_ Another electrical burst shocked the twitching mammal—and the figure kicked the metamorph away with a grunt. **_THAP!_**

Beast Boy rolled into a street sign. _Th-Thump!_ He rubbed his googly-eyed head. "Oh really...?" He wheezed.

_**PHOOOM!**_

He hopped the blast as a jackrabbit, flipped, landed on his shell as a snapping turtle, and lopped the sign off by its stem. _**PHOOOM!**_ He rolled under another blast—caught the dismembered street sign in a gorilla's arm, and bravely charged the fiend in elf form—the aluminum diamond held high overhead. "Hey, bucko! **YIELD!"**

_**WHANGGGGG!**_

The figure spun, spun, and stumbled briefly from the blow-

_**FL-FLASSSH!**_ A beam of golden light washed over him—singled out a contraption on his shoulder, and shot it off with a yellow blast. **_KRA-KOW!_** _**BZZZT!**_ In a single cascade of electrical bolts, the figure was completely exposed—wearing a suit of black and white reinforced armor. He turned and glanced up, an onyx visor glistening across his helmet in the starlight.

Stargirl hovered down, smiling, her rod shimmering from the golden discharge. "There There... ...No more being shy..."

"Yeah! You're under arrest and stuff!" Beast Boy struck a pose beside her.

The helmeted figure cracked his gloved knuckles. _**"You children are done playing gods in this City. As a matter of fact, you're just done—pyriod."**_

"H-Hey!" Beast Boy blinked. "It talks!"

"_**Yes. It also kills."**_ _Ch-Chtung!_ A shoulder mounted rocket launcher popped loose and armed to miniature missiles. _Beep-Beep-Beeeeeeeeeep-**PFTCHOOOOOO****!.!.!**_

Stargirl gasped, bracedly. "Yipes-!"

Beast Boy flinched: "Aw crap! The bad guy's a _bad guy-!"_

_**FWOOOO-OOOO-OOOOSH!**_ The rockets soared straight at the two teenagers. Beast Boy scampered away while Stargirl stood her ground, snarled, and desperately flung her cosmic rod up like a golf club-**_CL-CLANKKKK!_**

One rocket spiraled maddeningly skyward before exploding against the nearest buildingface. **POWWWW****! **Through the collapsing dust and flame—the second rocket doubled back, hissing murderously streetward.

"Grrr-rrrf!" Beast Boy grunted and lurched into Stargirl, covering her protectively in gorilla form as the two tried in futility to leap out of range of the thing-

**KABOOOOOOM****!** They were engulfed in flame and shrapnel, bathing the sidewalk about them in napalm. Distant shrieks and cries lit the air as the last random bystanders fled in horror.

The assailant shielded his helmeted gaze with a forearm. A glistening to his visor, and he tilted to the side. _**"Hrmmph. Didn't even last long enough to call it a 'career'."**_ He turned to go—but stopped, glancing jerkily at the sight...

... ... ...for the smoke and flame dissipated, revealing an obsidian dome of soul energy covering the two quivering teens. Raven hovered down from above, her hands extended to protect the two. "... ... ..." She turned and glared at the assasin. Her eyes flashed white with pulsing spiritual energy.

"_**So we have a witch... ..."**_ _Cl-Clakkk!_ The figure rotated his right plasma cannon so that it morphed into a glowing red flamethrower. _**"... ...just when I'm in the mood to burn something."**_

"Just try it." She sneered-

He tried. _**PHWOOOOOOOOOMB!**_ The high-tech assassin fired a pillar of liquid flame straight at the blue-robed sorceress.

"Hnnngh-!" She flung both hands forward and produced a shield of black energy. _**P-POWWW!**_ The warbling obsidian buckler held off the flame, tongues of burning lava licking out from all sides of her as she held the suited psychopath back. The attacker increased the temperature of his flame thrower, summoning more fuel from the core. The stream of napalm grew hotter, causing steam to rise from the traffic lane paint of the asphalt below.

"Nnnghh...Hckkk..." Raven's eyes pulsed brighter. She murmured something, a chant, a meditation—And her fingers tightened. Her chakra stone shimmered, and the black energy enlarged—pushing _against_ the flamethrower's plume and slowly, slowly shoving back towards the anchored assailant.

Beast Boy and Stargirl clung together, hiding nervously behind Raven's back as the standoff continued.

But the assassin-

His visor flickered. _**"Hrmph..."**_ His legs shuffled, and with one flinching twirl—He relinquished the flamethrower's emission, spun on a heel, and fired a plasma projectile with his other wrist. **_PHOOOM!_**

"Unngh-!" Raven lurched forward from the sudden lack of pressure. She foolishly lost control of her telekinetic shield, gazed bright-eyed at the incoming projectile, and ducked at the last second as the golden orb flew into an abandoned pickup truck-

_**KAPOWWWW!**_

Flames and shrapnel flew across the street. The teenager dove, sprawling every which way. A shadow loomed over them, growing darker—as the flaming chassis of the pickup truck came down.

"Aaaugh!" Stargirl kicked off the ground and lurched forward, barely rolling into the initial crater of the battle as the chassis landed explosively behind her—bathing a buildingfront in flames. "Nnngh-*kaff* *kaff*–Raven?.?.? Beast Boy, where is Raven-?"

"_**RAAAAWWWWR!"**_ A smoke-stained T-Rex stormed out through the flames, jaws gnashing angrily at the attacker.

"_**So, the gloves are off?"**_ The figure liquidly side-stepped the lunging green dinosaur, leapt tall, and extended both hands with sparkling nodes protruding from the metallic palms. **_"You must really like pain, 'hero'."_** _**BZZZZ-ZZZT!**_

The Tyrannosaurus howled in pain and lurched forward-

The assailant grunted electronically, slid over and off his tail, and reared a fist with sparkling energy coursing through his suit and up into his upper torso. _**"You think you have the right to police this City? Allow me to show you true enforcement."**_ **WHAMMM!** With a burst of synthetic super strength, the suited figure punched the green dinosaur hard in the ribcage. The beast numbly slammed into a buildingside, inadvertently toppling over a lamppost that fell violently towards a shrieking mother cowering besides two children-

"... ... ...!" Stargirl's masked eyes flew wide. She picked her torso up, raised the Cosmic Rod over her head like a spear, and flung the entire thing across the street like a missile.

_**SWISSSSSH—THUD!**_ The thing embedded into the building face besides the family just in time to block the falling lamppost from impaling them into bits. The mother and children scampered away, gasping-

"_**Hmmph... ...Oh no... ...it's not that easy..."**_ The figure dusted himself off, switched his flame-thrower into a plasma cannon again and aimed at the running bystanders. **_"... ...allow me to show you the price for childish incompetence."_**

Courtney hissed, bolted to her limping feet, and flung a hand to her Cosmic Converter Belt. A flicker of sparks-

_**CRKKKK—**_The Cosmic Rod shook, wobbled, and ripped out from the building face. It soared to her on remote just as she lunged in front of the murderous suspect and swept his feet out from under.

_**WHAP!**_ **_"AUGH!-"_** _**PHOOOM!**_ His plasma burst soared skyward, exploding into a fifth story office window.

_Th-Th-Thwp!_ The Cosmic Rod flipped through the air, fell into Stargirl's grasp; and she swung the thing violently down to impale the metal suited cretin-

_**CLANK!**_ He deflected it with a boot, the sole of which opened up to produce a rocket thruster straight into Stargirl's chest. **_FWOOOSH!_** A burst of flame shot out at point blanc.

"UNNGH!" The girl stumbled back, her Cosmic Converter Belt taking the bulk of the blast-

"_**HTTT!"**_ The figure kicked up, squatted down, and dug both gauntlets like bulldozer teeth into the asphalt beneath. **_CRKKKKK!_** _**"You want Jump City? Have an armful of it! HA!"**_ He flung the chunk of concrete straight up like a wall into the Star Spangled Kid—**_WHAM!_**

She stumbled back, losing her balance-

_WRIIIIII!_ He was already standing and aiming a plasma cannon at the fresh 'wall', chuckling electronically. _**PHOOOOOOM****!**_

**POWWW!** The blast of shrapnel and flame sent Courtney tumbling backwards—smashing through a minivan—and landing with a groaning roll against a streetlamp, beside which Raven was finally coming to... ... ...wincingly standing to her feet. She gazed at Courtney's bruised figure, at the flames bathing the sidewalk and buildingfronts, and finally at the huge craters and potholes in the street.

"... ... ..." A deep breath and she whipped her communicator out. "Cyborg. This is Raven."

"Snkkkt. _What's the report-?"_

"The target is too much for just the three of us to handle! On top of a plethora of high tech weaponry, his suit is giving him super strength and inhuman agility. Either we get backup, or we're squashed. Already he's threatened to kill civillians-"

_**THUDDD!**_ The holey minivan imploded from the weighted villain landing on top of it.

"... ...!" Raven gazed up as her figure lit up in the golden glow of twin plasma cannons.

_Wriiiiii-Wriiiiii! **PH-PHOOOOOOM!**_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Cyborg-panting-ran to a stop a mile and a half away, in the heart of Downtown. He raised his forearm to shout into the communicator:

"Are there any casualties?" Silence. "Raven...?"

The distorted sound of plasma fire and explosions lit up over the airwaves.

Victor's human eye twitched. "Raven...!" He shouted.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_Raven, do you copy?.!.?"_

_**VRMMMMMMMM!**_ Robin roared up Main Street, roared in and out of traffic, burning rubber on his R-Cycle.

He shouted into his helmet's communicator: "Does anyone copy...?"

"_Snkkt—Uggh... ...B-Beast Boy here, I think... ..."_

"Beast Boy, concentrate." Robin flashed a look left and saw the legs of the highway overpass. He swung so hard that he swerved at a forty-five degree angle directly under a swerving semi truck trailor and roared up an overpass. _**SCREEEEEECH-VRMMMM!**_ "Look at your communicator for one second-"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_-and tell us your exact coordinates."_

"Nnnngh... ..." The elf crawled out from under a hilltop of debris, spat blood, and winced in an attempt to gaze at his portable device. "Dude.. ...Can't s-see nothing but stars. This bad guy's a real bruiser-"

"_Okay, the big orange button. Cycle over to Cyborg's signal and press it."_

"B-But... .." Beast Boy gazed thinly towards where a dark sorceress levitated side to side, flinging armfuls of black telekinetic bands as a metal suited killer charged her. "R-Raven and Courtney, they n-need help-"

"_And this is going to help. Send Cyborg a beacon."_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_Okay dude, b-beacon sent."_

"_Snkkkt—Cyborg, you thinking what I'm thinking?"_

"Way ahead of ya, bird boy." Cyborg narrowed his human eye on the stream of data blinking before him on his forearm's liquid crystal display. Once more, he saw the strange transmission blinking on in the background, but switched it off in the heat of the moment. In swift fashion, he received the exact coordinates of the ensuing fight with the suspect. _"Go Timothy McVeigh on my Town, will ya? Sky's about to fall on you, **punk**!"_ He poured over a dozen geometric calculations in his head, briefly aimed his skull skyward, and flickered his red eye brightly as he finished making the necessary estimations.

The half-android glanced left and right, finally spotting a few curious onlookers on the edge of the courtyard he was in. "Hey! All of y'all who can hear me! Plug your damn ears! I'm not even kidding! Do it nao!"

A deep breath, and the Stone Industries' heir hunched down, metal muscles tightening. A dull, deeper than deep bass hum filled the local air. Loose twigs and leaves bounced along the cobblestone. Rivulets of water shook in a nearby fountain like droplets off a hissing alligator's back. Finally, the sound drowned out entirely as a huge strobe of electric blue blazed beneath Victor Stone's translucent metal skin. One brief second of utter muteness, a breath, then-

_**VRONNNNNNNG-**_**B****-BOOOOOOM!** A vaporous blast billowed skyward as a dischage of sonic energy erupted beneath Cyborg, propelling him up—up—up over the rooftops of Jump City in a superhuman leap. People clutched their skulls and cowered as half-a-block's worth of windows either cracked or shattered entirely from the proximity of the sonic liftoff.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Nnnngh!" Raven sweated, swathing two hands in criss-cross format, forming an 'x' of black energy-

-which the assassin effortly smashed through. _**"HAUGH!"**_ **_FL-FLASH!_** He swung a sparkling fist straight towards the petite magician-

"Htt!" Raven dove out of the way-

_**SMASSSSH!**_ The sidewalk split in two from his impacting gauntlets.

-Raven landed, rolled, slid to a crouch and pointed two hands' index fingers at the building face behind the suited figure.

A bolt of black energy enshrouded a storefront, tore it off its foundation, and swept forward—slamming into the attacker's rear. _**WHUMP!**_ The man was slid towards Raven, just as she levitated upwards and stretched an opposite hand out.. ... ...dragging an abandoned city bus straight into the front of his prone figure-

"_**HAAAAAAUGH!"**_ He readied both fists and merely punched his way through the aluminum monstrosity. **_POWWWWW!_**

"Unnngh!" Raven was knocked off balance by the proximity of the resulting explosion. She slammed into a traffic light, denting it, and fell hard to the ground below. _"Ooof!"_

_**THUD!**_ The figure stomped down in front of her. He brushed several flaking bits of ash and flame off his metal reinforced shoulders and grumbled: **_"Isn't it amusing hao, the harder you try to protect this metropolis, the more you tear it apart?"_** _**CL-CLAKKKK!**_ He transformed his right cannon into a flame thrower and aimed it at her twitching figure. **_"Give in to your failure."_**

Raven glanced up, then looked back down. She took a deep breath. "Hope you packed an umbrella."

The man's helmet tilted to the side—just as a broad shadow overcame him from above. He looked up in time for his visor to reflect the snarling, dive-bombing image of Cyborg.

"_**HAAAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!"**_

**SMASSSSS-SSS-SSSSSH!** The two went plunging straight down through the street-

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**CRUNNNNCH!**_

-and into the sewers below.

**SPLOOOSH!**

"_**UNNNGH!"**_ The attacker toppled, rolling and splashing through the steady stream of muck.

Cyborg leered over him, sparkling all over as his armor settled from the sonic discharge that brought him there. "What? _**WHAT?.!.?"**_ He growled and gripped the figure by the metal shoulder and slammed him into a wall of mortar. _**WHUD!**_

"_**HNNGH!"**_ The figure slapped his arm away and aimed a plasma cannon-

_**CL-CLAK! POWWWW!**_ A sonic burst exploded the weapon in question.

"_**AUGH!"**_ The figure stumbled into the middle of the underground stream—clutching his gauntlets...

"You wanna throw daon, shitstain?" Cyborg roared and marched towards him through the sludge. "Then **let's throw daon!"**

_**CL-CLAK!**_ The figure's gloves plated over with reinforced armor as he raised his fists-

"_**HAAAAAAAAAUGH!"**_ Cyborg was already charging him. **_SWOOOOOOSH!_** His fist sailed vaporously into the assassin's armored chest. _**WHUDDDDDD!.!.!**_ The sheer immensity of the impact forced a snake-coiling rivulet of bricks to shed from the sewer walls and shower the two in dust and debris, through which the vibrating figure of the assassin soared like a missile-pinballing down a fork in the underground cesspool.

He barely stumbled to his dripping feet when-

_**STOMP-STOMP-STOMP-STOMP—**_Cyborg stormed up and sailed his toe up into the assassin's shoulder like it was a football—**CLANNNG!**

The armored fiend lifted up into the ceiling—_**THUD!**_-and littered the puddle-strewn floor with strips of concrete just as Cyborg grasped him by the ribcage—**_GRIP!_**-and forced him into a headlock, trying with all his titanium might to snap his metal helmet off.

"What's... ...the big idea... ... ...of trying to **_off_** Kensuke Kobayashi... ...?" Victor hissed at the cretin in his paws. "Who sent you?.!.?.! Who ordered the hit?.!.?"

"_**If I wanted t-to kill him... ... ...I could h-have done it in his sleep... ..."**_ The attacker struggled to remark, his electronic voice fluctuating as the broadcast struggled under Cyborg's grasp.

"Then why tonight? Why in open public?.?.?"

"_**Why else... ...?"**_ The figure's visor glinted coldly. **_"... ...to embarrass you."_** A blue light. _**BZZ-ZZZZZTTT!.!.!.!**_ A sharp electric pulse shot out from his armor.

"NNNNGH-" Cyborg struggled, but succumbed to the waves of electrocution being pumped into his cybernetic body. "AAA-AAA-AAAUGH!"

_**WH-WHAM!**_ The figure elbowed him hard in the chest and flung the half-anfroid over his shoulder. **_"... ... ...to humble you..."_**

"Nnngh-" Cyborg stumbled, limped, and swayed in mid-muck-

_**TH-THWPPPP!**_ A golden whip of plasma energy suddenly ensnared Victor's neck. "Snkkkt-" He hissed and struggled to breathe.

The assassin anchored the golden lasso to his plasma cannon, pulling tight and keeping Victor at bay. His visor emotionlessly reflected the agonized figure of the strangled teen. _**"... ... ...to show you your place. Jump City is not yours. Give up your self-righteous crusade, or suffer the consquences..."**_

"Snkkkt...Y-Yeah..." Cyborg sneered, eye flaring and teeth gnashing. "That'll happen." He stopped struggling and aimed his fist down at the attacker's feet. _**POWWW!**_ His entire arm discharged at the end of a titanium cable. It flew earthward and latched onto the assassin's ankle. _**GRIP!**_ "NNNGH-AAAGH!" Cyborg's upper body pivoted, all the while he retracted the cable attached to his arm.

_**YANKKKK!**_ The heavily suited attacker pratfalled—landing with a splash on his pelvis, belly up.

_**CL-CLPP!**_ Cyborg's hand fell back into place. He yanked the golden whip loose from his neck and charged the prone figure, barreling- "**_RRRRRRGHHH-"_**

"_**HTT!"**_ The figure kicked his knees up at the last second, vaulting Cyborg directly over him.

"Aaaa-aaugh!" Cyborg somesaulted, flailed, and landed on his feet. He grinded to a stop, nose-to-mortar with the tunnel wall of the sewer. He spun around-

"_**HAAAAAUGH!"**_ The assassin was already charging, leaping with a speared dive-

_**WHUMMMP!**_

The two went sailing through the sewer wall-

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**SMASSSSSSSH****!**_

-and plummeting into a subway station beyond.

A dozen citizens gasped and scurried and ran away from the collapsing combatants. An air of panicked chatter filled the claustrophobic space as Cyborg jumped to his feet and limped briefly-

_**TH-THWPPPP!**_

"... ... ..." Cyborg looked up, face dripping with sewage-

"_**HAAAAUGH!"**_ The assassin uncoiled the length of his plasma whip, spun, and flung the thing murderously towards Cyborg—**_THWPPPPP!_**

Victor dodged his half-metal skull to the side-

_**CRNNNNCHHH!**_ The burning rope smashed a chunk of tile and steel out of a subway support beam.

_**TH-THWP-THWPP!**_ The metallic fiend spun the plasma whip, twirled, and flung it again—**_THWPPP!_**

Cyborg leapt, rolled, and barreled awkwardly through a bench and a newspaper stand. "Aaaugh!" _**CRUNCHHH!**_ Splinters of debris littered the floor around him. A few gasping onlookers gawked in his collapsed proximity.

"_**... ... ...heh."**_ The figure cocked his helmet to the side, twirled, and aimed his burning rope straight at a trio of flinching businessmen. **_THWPPPP—_**the shrieking citizens flinched from the limb-lopping weapon surging their way-

Cyborg gasped. He flung a fist up. _**SNAGGG!**_ He grabbed the coil before it could sail through the citizens' skulls. Just as burning steam rose from his titanium palm-

"_**HRRRRGH!"**_ The assassin yanked back at the coil. **_WHPPP!_**

"AAAAH-!" Cyborg's human eye bulged as he was flung in slow motion forward, over the leering head of the assassin—and straight into the glare of an incoming subway train.

_**HONKKKKKKK!**_

"Snkkkt-!" Cyborg hissed and flung his feet down. _Cl-Clak!_ Two pairs of bolts protruded from the side of his boots and latched into the subway floor. _**CRKKKK!**_ At the very last second, Cyborg anchored himself into place—his wobbling face a bare inch from the speeding surface of the train and its frightened passengers within. "Whew-"

_**THAP!**_ The Assassin's metal palm slapped hard against the back of Cyborg's head.

"NO-" He shrieked, but—_**SCRKKKK-KKKKK-KKKKK!**_-his titanium face was pressed painfully into the speeding cars of the train, sending sparks and shards of aluminum flying. The half-android's skull formed a literal river of dented carnage into the hurdling transit, causing the windows to explode like a gattling gun, one after another, into the shrieking faces of the flinching occupants. **_POW-POW-POW-POW-POW!_**

"_**Do you hear them, Cyborg? Those aren't cheers they're giving you-"**_

"NNNNGH—**SHUT UP**!" Victor hissed. His fingers flexxed, as opposite hands formed a phalanx of a dozen different tools, all of which he blindly shoved back—sparkingly—into the attacker's armored ribs. _**ZZZZ-ZZZ-ZZZT!**_

"_**NNNGHH-!"**_ The asssassin relinquished his pressure.

Cyborg took a deep breath. _Squeeeeek!_ His scuffed skull spun one hundred and eighty degrees to face him backwards. Victor's face tensed, and suddenly his robot eye narrowed until the crimson aperture was a veritable pinprick. A beam of focused energy lasered out and struck the center of the assassin't visor. _**ZAAAAAP!**_

"_**AAAAUGH!"**_ The cretin stumbled back-

_Cl-Clak!_ The bolts of Cyborg's boots retracted. As the train finally finished blurring by, the man snarled long and hard, leapt straight up, and spun with a flying kick straight across the assassin's helmet. _**WHAMMMM!**_

The assassin stumbled back—only to be dealt blow after blow as the crowd nervously parted to allow Cyborg to lay it on thick, _fist_ after _fist_ after _elbow_ after _uppercut_ after _fist_. _**WHANG! CLANG! WHAM! WHANG!**_

After the brutal onslaught of impacts, the assassin reeled on noodly legs-

_**CL-CL-CL-CLAKKKA!**_ Cyborg turned his right arm into a sonic cannon and zeroed in on the subject's skull. "Hope that bubble you're wearing is soundproof, punk-"

_Cl-Clak!_ A shoulder mounted rocket protruded from the suspect's armor-_**PFTOOOOO-**_and sailed straight daon the mouth of the gasping Cyborg's cannon. **_KA-POWWWW!_** Cyborg's mechanical arm exploded in a sea of shrapnel.

"_AAAA-AAAAUGH!"_ The titanium teen reeled back. He reached for his sparkling, wilted stub-

"_**Let's try this again, shall we?"**_ The assassin hissed and plowed into Victor's chest. **_"HRRRGHHH-"_** _Cl-Clak!_ The rocket thrusters protruded from his boots. _**FWOOOOOOM!**_ He propelled the two straight up through the roof of the rumbling subway junction—**SMASSSSH!**-acceleratedly steamrolling over layer after layer of metal and mortar until-

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**CRUNNNNNCCCCH!**

-they exploded up through the floor of a grocery store above. Shoppers shrieked and ran every which way, abandoning their metal carts to a bubbling tsunami of frozen goods and exploding cans. Flame and electrical energy followed in a trail behind both cannonballing combatants as they soared through two collapsing aisles of produce and slid into a sea of registers. Employees gasped and abandoned their posts, half of them guiding occupants out the front gates in an impromptu evacuation as-

"_**AAAA-AAAUGH!"**_ Cyborg kicked the assailant off of him.

The figure flipped, twirled, and landed in a graceful slide-

"HRRGGH!" Cyborg was already charging him in a bloodlust—_**STOMP-STOMP-STOMP-STOMP!**_ He slammed full-elbow into the assassin and plowed him through register after register, snowing the floor with fountains of green dollar bills and loose change until—**_CRUNNNNCH!_** The two sailed into a wall of freezers. Microwave dinners and powdery bits of frost bathed the floor as Cyborg punched with his good arm at the fiend's helmet-

_**WHAMMM!**_

The assassin ducked, slid under Cyborg's feet—_Cl-Clakkk!_-and aimed his last remaining plasma cannon at the half-android's side.

"Oh no you don't-!" Cyborg kicked his foot up.

_CLANK!_ The attacker's aim was directed towards the ceiling—**PHOOOM!**-tile and ash dusted the floor as the grocery store's sprinkler system went off, soaking the heads of fleeing citizens while Cyborg stepped aside, grimacing as—_CRRKKKK!_-a tiny metal stalk of a hand broke out through his right stub. The 'backup' limb sparkled from the tips of its skeletal fingers as he sneered at the suited psychopath:

"Let's see hao **_you_** handle the burn, pal!" He flung the electrocuting digits straight into the assassin's metal chest at needlepoint. "HAAAAAUGH!"

_**BBZZZZZ-ZZZZT-ZZZZTT!**_

The attacker shook, vibrated, and twitched at the end of the sparkling punishment. _**"NNNNGHH-AAAAA-AAAAA-AAAH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"**_

Cyborg stopped sneering to blink.

_**GRIP!**_ The villain's visor glinted as he effortlessly gripped Cyborg's backup wrist and glared him in the face. **_"That tickles, kid."_** He reared his fast back. _**"Nnnnngh-"**_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Meanwhile...

_**VRMMMM-MMMMM!**_ Robin roared along the highway, heading towards a plume of smoke and an aura of flames along the Northwest of Downtown.

"Cyborg... ...Is the suspect daon? Cyborg?"

"_Snkkt—Dude... ...if he isn't daon from Cyborg's Dumbo Drop, then I've got two words for ya-"_

"Syriously..." Robin grunted into the helmet. "... ...any sign of them?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Beast Boy was lifting a wincing Raven to her feet while Stargirl hobbled over.

"I think they fought their way into the sewers. There's a lot of thunder and noise coming from below. The three of us were gonna go check it out-"

"_But have you HEARD from Cyborg yet? Knowing him, the smackdaon he's unleashing can't be safe for the rest of us in close quarters. Has he given the go-ahead to assist-?"_

"I done told you, dude!" Beast Boy hissed as he spun around and gazed at the battle-strewn street. "Cy just took him on a tour of the Turtles' hideout! For all we know, they could be in China by nao-"

_**SMASSSSSSH!**_ Two metallic bodies came barreling out of a grocery store's entrance two blocks daon.

Beast Boy spun to see, blinking. "... ... ...Or, yanno, they just went shopping. Beast Boy out." He pocketed the communicator away and sprinted into a brisk jog. "Ladies, nao would be a good time to make Susan B Anthony and possibly also Patton proud and kick some major tush!"

"R-Right...!" Stargirl shook the cobwebs loose and took to the air with the cosmic rod.

Raven glared and levitated menacingly. "Show me the tush."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_**HRRRGH!"**_ The assassin fired a volley of plasma projectiles at Cyborg. **_PHOOM! PH-PHOOM!_**

Cyborg dropped, rolled, dodged, and slammed his foot down over a manhole. _CL-CLANG!_ It bounced up into his hand—_**GRIP!**_-and he flung it violently towards the attacker's forehead.

The suited fiend rotated his plasma cannon, produced the golden whip, and sliced the incoming metal disc in half. _**THWHPPPP!**_ He spun into a pose, fist raised. **_"Oh please, Mr. Stone Jr. Is that all you've got?"_**

Cyborg panted, panted—but suddenly smirked. "Hardly." On cue, he hobbled back-

-allowing a green volicraptor to pommel-horse over him. _"RARRRRSSSH!"_ _**CLANKKK!**_ The dinosaur's bladed feet slammed into the metallic assassin's chest.

The villain stumbled back-

Beast Boy shrank into an elf, rolled behind him, and shouted: _"Pinata time, people!-"_ Before enlarging as a gorilla and holding the assassin from behind in a double arm lock.

The struggling baddie attempted to unsheathe his rocket boots—_**FL-FLASH!**_

Raven's telekinesis enshrouded his limbs in a shimmering ink. She hissed over her shoulder, eyes billowing white. "Nao's as good a time as ever."

"Riiiight..." Stargirl grinned wincingly, gripped the cosmic rod in two white-knuckled hands, and flew in for the strike. "... ...time to put my lacrosse skills to good use-"

_**Bzzt!**_ A spark—ushered from the villain's helmet—and a digital command was given to his belt. _Clank!_ One cartridge fell of his waist. _Clank!_ Another. _Cl-Clank!_ Two more.

"Uhhhm..." Stargirl blinked under her mask.

One by one, all four devices began to glow brightly, emitting a beeping noise. _Bip! Bip! Bip! Bip! Bippppp!_

"Oh darn." Stargirl gulped.

"Get down!" Cyborg hoisted the Star Spangled Kid to the side.

Raven erected a black shield in front of herself and the other two. "Beast Boy-!" She shouted over the barrier. "-get away-"

"_**GRRRRGHH!**_" But the gorilla instead opted to suplex the metal-suited villain towards the other side of the explosives-

_**KA-BL-BL-BLAAAAAAAAM!**_ A column of fire soared skyward from the quartet of plastiques. The sky danced with orange plasma as the heated plume forced the faces of several buildings nearby to melt and warp. A vaporous fume fill the air as the heat spread, lighting various street signs and post boxes on fire.

As a curtain of debris fell... ...

A singed green elf shuffled to his feet. "Nnnngh.. ..." He rubbed his sizzling fur and leaned pantingly against a streetlamp, scanning the street for signs of his companions.

Suddenly... ...a marching shadow.

"... ... ...!" He lurched tremblingly into a fighting stance, fists shakingly raised.

"_**Hao pathetic. And to think you trained your whole life for this... ..."**_ The attacker marched through the falling soot, his armor charred in several places. A flickering visor, and the one last plasma cannon on his wrist glowed. **_"And to what end? You all will only hurt this City more than you care to admit..."_**

"Who... ..." Beast Boy's eyes narrowed. "Wh-Who are you... ...?"

"_**Your payment. For a job well done; in that it's hardly done."**_ He aimed the glowing cannon.

Garfield Logan gulped. Then—from his belt buckle: _"Snkkkt. You may want to jump aside."_

"... ... ..." Garfield glanced over his shoulder. His elfin ear twitched.

"_**Hmmm?"**_ The assassin's helmet tilted.

"Ohhh dude..." Garfield grinned. "You are sooooo boned." He leapt up high-_**"Nnngh!"**_-just in time to dodge a red shark of metal pouring through the settling ash. **_VRMMMM-MMMM-MMMM!_** The R-Cycle nakedly roared towards the figure, its entire front chassis lined with half a dozen blinking, glowing, explosive birdarangs. _Beep-Beep-Beep-BEEEEEP-_

"_**HRKKK!"**_ The assassin tried to lurch aside—but instead caught an armful of the incoming bike, slamming into him-

**BOOO-_OOOOOM!_**

A ball of erupting fuel and shrapnel once more permeated the center of the street, enveloping the figure of the heavily armored villain. Crimson light danced across the roadside, within the center of which Robin's steeled boots touched down at the end of his glide. _Cl-Clamp!_ _Scrkkk!_ He extended his bo-staff and marched calmly towards the flames.

Beast Boy was perching on a lamppost overhead, panting. "D-Dude!" He gulped. "That was your _bike_, man!"

"Hrmmphhh...It always did steer a little too much to the left..." Robin murmured.

"Duuuu-uuuu-uuuude..." The elfling chuckled.

Robin's eyemask narrowed as he marched icily through the ash and soot. He lifted his cape briefly to fend off the heat, then gazed upon a streak of littered shrapnel leading from the center of the blast towards the glass front of a shopping mall.

"_**Nnnngh...Scrkkkt..."**_ The villain limped, plates of armor shattered open in various spots along his lumbering body as he stumbled towards the building. A crackling in his helmeted voice, and he pivoted to glare at the marching caped crusader. **_"Heh... ...figured the biggest hypocrite would show up eventually."_**

"So you're a _talker_." Robin droned, marching towards him. "The best you've given any of us today was some half-decent exercise. But it's over. This ends nao."

"_**HAH!"**_ The villain aimed his plasma cannon. **_PHOOOM!_**

Robin gritted his teeth and flung an icy batarang straight at the projectile—_**FLASSSH!**_-in a cloud of exploding white, the golden orb was canceled out. The Boy Wonder spun, dodged another blast-PHOOOM-and hoisted his bo-staff over his head like a spear. "Maybe you didn't _hear_ me." _Fwooooosh!_ He flung the entire staff straight into the mouth of the cannon. **POW!** It exploded from within, singeing the villain's arm.

_**"Augh!"**_

"I said—This ends **nao**." Robin sneered. _SCH-CHLINK!_ Two more birdarangs glistened to life on either side of his lithe figure.

"_**You're nothing but a bunch of Teen Tragics! Just like in the news! Your legacy will be a total laughing stock of—"**_

"Uh huh." _FW-FW-FW-FWOOOOSH!_ The birdarangs soared straight at the throat of the helmeted villain.

He raised two criss-crossing gauntlets up and deflected the projectiles. _**CL-CLANK!**_ He peered over his forearms—only for his visor to reflect the sailing steel of Robin's boot.

_**CLANKKKK!**_ The villain flew back–

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

–and down two levels into the basement section of the four story shopping plaza. _**SHATTTER! CLANGGGGG!**_ Late night patrons gasped and flew into the various retail storefronts on the multiple floors hanging above him.

Just as the villain struggled—sparklingly to his feet—Robin dropped down, cape fluttering. The Boy Wonder marched across the courtyard towards him, his arms at his side.

One foot in a fountain, the villain lurched upright—snarled-and flung a plasma whip at the teenager. _**THWPPP!**_

"... ... ..." Robin mutedly ducked.

"_**HAAAUGH!" THWP! THW-THWPP!**_

Robin side-stepped, leapt back-and dove the last whiplash that coiled the glowing rope around the leg of a mall bench. _Cl-Clap!_ Robin landed on the whip, ran up the fluctuating length of it, and forward-flipped over the villain's helmet—slapping three explosives to his helmet.

But before the gasping cretin could reach up and remove them—_**Fwoomp!**_ Robin enshrouded his entire skull with his titanium cape, detached it from himself, and kicked off so that he landed in a slide on the other side of the courtyard.

"_**MMMFFF-MMMFFF-SNKKKTKTT!"**_ The suited assassin thrashed and struggled around, feet splashing wildly in the fountain, as he fumbled in vain to peel the vice-like cape bagged over his cranium. All the while, Robin patiently stood aside and watched as several glowing lights shimmered from beneath the 'hood' and—**_KAPOWWWWWWW!_**-flame and plasma erupted from underneath the polymerized metallic article. The cape deflated and fluttered smokingly to the ground while the figure lurched to his knees in the boiling fountain water, hissing...sputtering... ... ..his helmet blown clean off, exposing the true face underneath.

_Th-Thap!_ Beast Boy landed down beside the gazing Robin. The elf rubbed his shoulder and limped over. "Yeesh... ... ...for a guy who loves masks so much, you sure as Hell know hao to take them off..."

"Shh...quiet." Robin glared towards the criminal and marched towards the edge of the fountain. "Who are you? What was the point of all this?"

"_Hckkk... ...p-point... ...heheheh... ...So you DO believe I came h-here to teach you s-something..." _The criminal stared towards the penny-strewn fountain, struggling on all fours. _"... ...is this humility bleeding through your facade...'hero'...?"_

"You didn't need a public place to eliminate Kobayashi. All along, you wanted to test _**us**_..." The Boy Wonder's gaze briefly fell on the various frightened heads poking out from all floors above in the quadratic shopping mall. "Why this public charade?.!.?" He stared back daon. "What do you have to gain from a suicide mission?.!.?"

"_Hrmmm... ...I was hoping... ...boy... ...That when we met again, you would impress me. Alas... ...I was mistaken... ..." _A familiar face gazed up. A bald head. Asian eyes. An iron smirk, oozing like a molten river. _"You are still the same simpleton as ever... ..."_

Robin's lips parted and his features fell...

_**FLASH!**_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_In a rusted warehouse..._

_Along the hellish fringes of Gotham... ..._

_A young Robin struggled in his grip... ... ... ..._

"_I think there's only one thing you are familiar with... ..." The man hissed. " ...And that's pain. Allow me to remind you-"_

_And with one jerk, the boy's shoulder was dislocated, triggering a morbid scream-_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**FLASH!**_

"Katarou..."

"Y-You know this creep?.!.?" Beast Boy stammered.

The man limped up to proud legs in his limping, crumbling armor. "And to think, after the trap we sprang for you in Nanda Parbat, after surviving Lady Shiva's training... ... ...you've still stayed so _blind_. So _weak_. Heh... ...even if I were to die here and nao, it would be with a smile."

Robin gulped. His fists tightened on either side of his capeless, shuddering body. "K-Katarou... ...What in God's name are you doing in Jump City... ...?"

"Robin..." Beast Boy murmured.

"... ...Who the Hell here could afford to employ you... ...?"

"Robin—Who's Lady Shiva-?"

"Shhh!" Robin hissed. _"This is beyond me. Beyond **us**."_

"Is it? Robin?" Katarou shrugged his arms wide, the fluctuating lights glazing off his bald skull as he grinned all the more devilishly. "You come here, training yourself to be nothing short of heir apparent to the One and Only Detective—And you expect no less than your own nemesis?.!.?"

Robin snarled: "You are **_hardly_** my nemesis. You are merely an obstacle I couldn't overcome-"

"And still haven't-"

"One time and one time only-"

"Forever and **_EVER!.!.!.!"_** Katarou lifted his voice wide, his shouting lungs reverberating off the ears, the cell phones, the cameras, and the eyewitness of every shuddering soul in the ampitheatrical shopping mall. "**I am your nemesis, Robin!"** He grinned wide, cackling: "**And so long as you _'Teen Tragics'_** **dwell in this City, seeking a blind fascimile of justice, I will make people SUFFER!"**

Beast Boy snarled. "Nao you listen here, _Ken Watanabitch_! Just what makes you think-"

"N-No..." Robin gripped Beast Boy's shoulder, his eyemask gaze darting at all the innocent faces, at all of the recording devices in nervous people's grasps, at all of the security feeds constantly observing the situation unfolding. "... ...th-this is a _farce_. A _setup_..."

"_H-Huh?"_

_**FW-FWOOSH!**_ Stargirl, Cyborg, and Raven lowered down to the mall's courtyard on a platform of black telekinesis. _Cl-Cl-Clakkk!_ Cyborg turned his good arm into a sonic cannon and trained it at Katarou. "Yo!—What's this clown yapping on about...?"

"A n-nemesis...?" Stargirl stammered.

"Cyborg, we need to disengage-!" Robin hissed.

"Say what-?.!.?"

Robin exclaimed: "This man—Katarou—he's a lethal weapon without so much as a _knife_ in his hand. And suddenly he's pitting us into a fight with an army's arsenal at his disposal. Victor, the only reason he hasn't killed us by nao is because-"

"_**WITNESS!"**_ Katarou reached to his chest and ripped open the last piece of armor, unveiling a patch of explosives strapped to his muscular pectorals. Gasps and shrieks emanated above him as he raised his arms up in a demonesque gravitose. "**_THE WAGES OF HEROISM!"_**

"_Oh dear lord..."_ Stargirl gasped, a hand over her braces.

"_**DON'T THINK OF IT, PUNK!"**_ Cyborg shouted over his humming cannon-arm. The skeletal fingers of his other hand twitched over it nervously. _"Raven..."_ He hissed aside. _"... ...what are the chances you could-?"_

"_Victor, I'm not sure I could even encase **half** that much..."_ She murmured towards the explosives, nonetheless meditating in the contemplation of it.

"_We **need** to retreat... ..."_ Robin reaffirmed. _"The only reason he's holding back is we've yet to be witnessed charging him in a group. Don't you see? He's using us-"_

"_Dammit. Dammit. Dammit!"_ Cyborg hissed, shuffling uneasily backwards as his robot eye flickered over the explosives on Katarou's chest. _"Not after all this! Not after he totally owned us in our own City-!"_

"_It's blood, Vic. He wants the City's blood on our hands-"_

"_Wh-What sh-should we d-do? The maniac will blow this place at any second-!"_

"_No he won't. Not Katarou. He's got too much at stake to live for. There's something we don't understand at play here. There has to be!"_ Robin looked over his shoulder. _"Let's just back off and-"_

"_H-Hey..."_ Beast Boy blinked. _"H-Hate to break the subject. But ain't we missing-?"_

_**SMASSSSSH!**_ The ceiling exploded, forcing a series of gasps and shrieks as people ducked, heads turned, and cell phone cameras pivoted to catch sight of-

"X'hal!" Starfire descended, bruised and burnt on the edges of her amber skin. "I have finally found you! My communicator was destroyed in the flames! I was frightened that certain doom had consumed the whole lot of you-!"

"_**ALAS!"**_ Katarou cackled skyward, grinning like a madman. "**_The motley crew is complete! Let the holocaust begin!"_** He reached into his belt and produced a remote trigger-

"Aw shit-!" Cyborg reached for his cannon.

"Cyborg-!" Robin shouted.

But before a trigger—_any trigger_ could be pulled, a green energy bolt soared down and smacked into Katarou's twitching hand. _**FL-FLASH!**_

"Haaugh!" He gasped and lurched out of the fountain, grasping his wrist and chuckling up at the Tamaranian. "Are you expecting me to be impressed by that... ...?" He grinned. "Too late—Everyone here is _**dead**_ because of you..."

"What are you rambling about, cretin-?" Starfire's green eyes widened. She saw the vest of explosives on his chest, the proximity of her teammates, then the dozens upon dozens of helpless people watching from all corners of the shopping mall. A fire billowed from beneath her optics, and she snarled through clenched teeth: "Murderous creature! By the Goddess' flame, I shall not let you harm any more people!" _**FWOOOOSH!**_ She soared straight daon in an emerald streak.

"Starfire-NO!" Robin shrieked, a glove outstretched.

"DAMMIT, GIRL-" Cyborg leapt forward-

"HA HA HA! Let battle be joined!" Katarou effortlessly awaited Starfire's dive. Both she and the half-android converged on him at once, but it was the Tamaranian whose strength won over, throttling all three of them past a gaggle of scampering shoppers, through three shattering storefronts, through an exploding wall, and out into a cluttered street lost from Cyborg in the tumble, stumble, and-

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**KABOOOO-OOOO-OOOOM!**_ An explosion billowed out from the crux of the chaos, shattering windows for an entire block. The very earth of Jump City shook, every building bordering the intersection rumbling and rocking on its foundation. Amidst the tremors, Cyborg clamored for a foothold—but fell on all fours as his ears filled with a calamitous rumbling. He gazed up, twitching—to witness half of the hulking body of the shopping mall lurching earthward, windowed floors crunching in on one another—as the entire structure careened until it slammed thunderously into an elevated train-track, knocking the thing off its foundation so that it crumbled in twain. **_THUDDDDD!_** Rails fell to the ground from high above, skewering cars and turning the asphalt streets to swiss cheese.

"Dammit... ...Dammit to Hell, Starfire..." Cyborg growled, his human eye tearing amidst the dry heat of the collapse all around him. "Can't you listen, for once? _Dammit—_Hao did we all fall into his trap-?"

A train horn.

"... ... ..." Cyborg blinked. He gazed up through the dust and flame to see the gaping gash in the center of the elevated train track...shaking, vibrating, warbling with the incoming passenger caravan. "... ...Oh please, God, no..."


	17. Twisted

**(April 24, 2004... ... ...Before Sunrise)**

A gray glow shimmered along the East Horizon, kissing the topmost fringes of several rows of buildings. Within the shadow of the coming day, the lengths of Jump City Park slumbered peacefully—its paths empty and its grassy meadows glistening with nocturnal dew.

Alongside a fountain, several benches and chairs resided... ...along with an allotment of public chessboards—weathered from days of sunlight and moisture, waiting for the next few hours to limp forth and bring senior citizens and young ones alike to test their wits underneath the waxing noon.

It was within this tiny alcove of the park that a dark portal opened, and through it limped Raven—bruised and stained with the tell-tale signs of heated combat. She trudged into the crisp, cool air of an April morning and sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging. The girl ran a hand over her pale face, eyes clenched shut in a self-induced migraine of stress and indignation.

A few bleeding seconds of contemplation, and the aching sensation left her. She groaned and sauntered over until she slumped onto a bench. Alone.

"... ... ..." The girl raised her thin violet gaze. Her eyes fell upon the empty chessboards, as a line of brightening Gray slithered over the lengths of the park stretching westward beyond. Morning was uneventful. Tomorrow was _nao_. Raven ran away by not running away, her hands folded in her lap, her body glued to the bench. She knew she needed to meditate, but suddenly didn't have the strength to.

She sat upon the precipice of inaction for several minutes, when...

... ... ...a strange figure shuffled into the peripheral of her vision. His dirtied sneakers formed clapping echoes against the pavement pathways slicing through the dewey park grass. Soon, he strolled close enough to Raven so that she could smell the homeless years dripping off him. Then, suddenly—he stopped, frozen in his tracks. A pause, statuesque. Then, with an icy glide of a golem, he pivoted about and lurched towards her.

She did not protest. She did not move.

An exhale, a shuffling of the coattails, and the homeless man sat right next to her on the bench. A few seconds of absurd silence followed, but was swiftly broken when a voice emanated from his shadowed and obscured face: _"So then, dear Rachel. Why are you looking so daon...?"_

Raven exhaled sharply through her nostrils. She pivoted her head away from him. "I don't want to talk to you right nao."

"_But who do you have left to talk to? It would seem that you and your friends have had a falling out."_

"I assume that you **heard** me just nao-"

"_I would like to hear more... ..." _His shadowy head gazed once more towards her. _"You know that I am always wanting to hear what you have to say..."_

She closed her eyes. A deep sigh, as a brief cool wind kicked at her violet strands. Her fingers started to tremble...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Several Hours Ago)**

"Oh please, God, no..." Cyborg shuddered.

And yet, the passenger train kept hurdling towards the shattered gap formed in the L-Track. The rubble-strewn pavement below rumbled and thundered in the aluminum proximity of it. Victor Stone could hardly keep his footing to stare in horror. In one single blink, the billowing ash around him froze, the shouts and cries of distant teammates drowned out, and the horrendous collapse of a good half of the shopping mall suddenly fell to a grand low of insignificance.

An exhale, then-

Action overshot impulse. Impulse overshot thought. And thought had to keep along with the scampering metal boots of Cyborg, as the half-android took two bounding steps towards the elevated track, summoned a boost of sonic energy, and propelled himself up towards the freshly sundered bridge.

_**TH-THUNK!**_ The haphazard rails bent even further under his hard landing. He jogged forward a dozen meters, two dozen, four-and finally came to a stop several stone throws from the end of the line. It was there that he bravely stood, bracing his thick legs apart. _Cl-Cl-Clak!_ The clamps on his right boot hooked into the platform beneath him. _Clakk!_ So did the ones on his left. His titanium shoulders creaked and his inner servos whurred as Victor Stone tightened every metal muscle within his broad form and braced himself in front of the oncoming monstrosity.

Starlight screamed off the glinting forward windows of the first of three cars as it roared in proximity. A startled driver inside let loose a mute howl of terror and yanked hard at the control system's brakes. Sparks flew off the wheels, forcing the last lengths of rails still in tact to rattle, shake, and warp apart. A high pitched screech of dying metal flew through the air, deaffening, filling the pantomime of several frightened passengers screaming from within.

"Lord, I don't ask You for much. And whether these people do or not, I could care less..." Cyborg hunched over, metal fingers flexing as he seethed through clenched teeth: "But—I'm begging You—don't let this train no-sell on me."

_**SCREEEEEEEE-EEEEEEEEEEEEE-EEEEEEEEEECH!**_ The train was upon him. The driver ducked. The passengers flinched. One last glint of starlight, and Cyborg met the reverse of his face, clenched tightly at the flash-blink of ear-piecing contact.

**P-POWWW!** Cyborg's entire world jolted. All four of his boot clamps shattered in an instant. _**CR-CRKK!**_ A new series of sparks rained outward on either side of him as he shoved against the front of the train—denting it a meter deep—as it shoved _against him_, mercilessly, like a rusted aluminum whale shoving a sailboat towards the edge of the world; the edge of the world being a murderous two and a half story drop into lifeless concrete below. _**SKKKKK****-****KKKKK-KKTTTT!**_

"Hnnnn-nnnnn-nnnnghhh!" He snarled, shaking, wobbling, vibrating violently as he dutifully held his position, his metal boots shattering through railroad crossbeams, his elbow and shoulder joints hissing with invisible steam, his ears and nostrils leaking blood and oil as he struggled to hear above the high pitched scream of the metal against metal against metal against: "Promised to put more tax dollars into upgrading the transit system, _my ass_, **Georgeton**! Slow it down, _you dayum brakes_—Slow it down...with ... ... me... ... ... nnngh—_**AGHH**!_" Cyborg gasped, flailing, for he had run out of track. His desperate shove against the screeching train car turned into a helpless grasp—as he dangled with naked legs over the dust-laden air. A grunt, a flinch—and his metal finger snapped a panel of metal off the front...

...and he was loose. _"Aaaaaah-"_ **WHUD!** The half-android fell flat on his back, forming a humanoid crater in the undulating asphalt below. He winced and opened his eyes—briefly flinching as two loose lengths of rail fell on either side of him. _**CL-CLANG!**_

The forward train car slithered over the edge of the smashed L-Track. Four meters... ...eight meters.. ...twelve—And then a huge crunching sound as the precipice of the track buckled with a loud _**SNAP!**_ A monstrous, bass groan; the protuding length of the car hinged downward, the weight of it bending like a gigantic straw...and the collapse began under a drowned bubble of haunting soundless gravity, with Cyborg standing up and trembling in the deathly shadow of it all.

"No... NO... ... No no no no _**GOD**_ no-!" He raised his hands up in a last ditch effort to suicidally brace the bulk of the fall.

_**CRNNNNNGHHH-CRKKKKK—**_and the train car...

... ... ...stopped two feet in front of Victor's nose.

He blinked, unflinching from the flecks of dust and random aluminum bits raining daon on his skull. The car hovered there, perpendicular to the world—wobbling back and forth—until, with the levitating grace of a helium angel, it rose up... ...up.. ... ...up into the heavens. The car tilted back safely towards the top of the tracks, and in so doing the purplish stars briefly parted to reveal an amber figure grasping the entire caterpillar body of the train by its spine.

"... ... ... ..." A dirt and soot-covered Starfire hovered slowly, quietly. Her hair was a crimson cobweb mess—splotched everywhere with chunks of asphalt and metal shrapnel. Her outfit was no less spared, its alien fabric shorn and tattered in several spots. All of this, she paid no heed; instead she focused on setting the car—wheel by wheel—back onto the rail to match its two trailing siblings. Once the entire train was situated, she flitted like a guardian faerie towards the front of it—her hands planted into the dent marks that Cyborg had heroically made a few bleeding seconds earlier—and she shoved the entire thing back until it was at least four blocks north of the gash made in the track.

A gash that she had made, and yet-

".. ... ... ..." Cyborg exhaled long and hard, his hands slowly clenching into fists.

The train groaned to a stop, finally, its occupants standing up and stirring with murmuring voices that littered confusedly yet gratefully into the settling limp of night. The Tamaranian savior hovered to a stop, peering into the windows, looking for injuries. A brief shudder to her levitating figure, and she-half looked at Cyborg below her, not gazing directly. Not yet-

A shuffling noise from the mall.

Starfire turned to gaze down. Cyborg also swiveled about.

The rubble mounds parted ways with black talons of telekinesis. From beneath the careening face of the crumbled building, a conveyer belt of obsidian energy rolled out—carrying on its glistening surface dozens upon dozens of frightened, traumatized, but altogether _living_ citizens. Shoppers, retail workers, security guards, families, and several confused bystanders were safely deposited into the streets outside of ground zero. Along the evacuation route, Stargirl floated in the center—her cosmic rod erecting a golden forcefield overhead to protect innocent heads from falling debris. The ground briefly shook as an emerald wooly mammoth stomped out—carrying several nervous children on its back. The green behemoth lifted a metal beam in its trunk and reinforced the hole made in the rubble by the telekinesis while a capeless Robin swung in via grappling hook, produced a welding tool from his utility belt, and added the finishing touches to the job. Finally, Raven floated out—chanting a spell to herself while meditating to maintain the telekinetic escape route. Once Beast Boy and Robin were done with bracing the hole in the rubble, she flicked her wrists out into the street and began sweeping away dangerous bits of debris as the escapees huddled towards the far end of the ravaged intersection.

A murmur filled the air where once there was cacophony and chaos. Agitated citizens murmured and shared life-and-death stories with each other, barely five minutes fresh. Sobbing families hugged and solaced their children. Dozens upon dozens upon dozens of young people dialed and blipped and squawked on cell phones. All of this—under a warbling night sky—as sirens rose like a murder of crows in the distance, blood-clotting the path of destruction that the pursuit of Katarou had taken between there and the Vaughan Concert Hall.

_The near-assassination of Kensuke Kobayashi.. ... ...and it had led to this._

Cyborg exhaled sharply, his fists clenching and unclenching again, his half-metal body just _nao_ feeling the groaning ache of his last few minutes of heart-pounding heroism. _Heroism?_ He saw Robin flash Stargirl a look, murmuring something, patting the green wooly mammoth's leg, then turning, turning—and seeing Cyborg. A dull eyemask, worn at the edges, bent from battle and collapse—but ever vigilant, as Robin stared at Victor Stone...

...and Victor Stone stared back. A knowing glance, liquid and lethargic with the great spirit of collapse, the distant police sirens growing closer to bury the pitiful moment. And Cyborg pivoted to stare skyward once more.

And Starfire, wilted, bit her lip and looked away—gazing straight through the dented sight of the stranded train, seeking an answer in the signature of her last second salvation.

But falling short.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_We nao take you to Kelly Hampton reporting live from Cripes Street, just in front of what remains of the Johnson Shopping Center where Victor Stone's team of young superheroes apparently had a violent altercation with a superpowered individual—the chief suspect of an attempted assassination on local billionaire and Mayoral Candidate Kensuke Kobayashi at the Vaughan Concert Hall just two hours ago. Kelly, what can you tell us from where you are in the street?"_

"_Well, Merilyn, it is like a warzone daon here! I am not exagerrating when I say this. Just take a look at the scene behind me; emergency crews and rescue workers have been closely surveying every inch of this place, making sure that there are no missing persons or victims hidden under the rubble. I am pleased to report that according to recently reviewed security footage and several headcounts, there is no current confirmation of any fatalities in this situation—But it is still too early for the police to make a proper statement regarding an official body toll. We can, haoever, confirm that there have been several injuries—as you can see the many ambulances behind me erecting a local M*A*S*H unit treating everything from minor lacerations to severe concussions. And we're not just talking about the Johnson Shopping Center resting behind me—or what's left of it. But if you follow the camera as it—there we go, thanks Charlie—as it shows above us... ... ... ... ... ...there is a HUGE ...GAPING ... HOLE in the western L-Track. I've never seen anything like it in Jump City before, Merilyn. It's like a huge comet smashed through this thing. And the wreckage isn't just here on Cripes Street. If you travel a few blocks daon, there's rubble strewn everywhere—because supposedly the young superheroes' fight took them through the sewer, into a subway station, a grocery store, a bus stop, and—and—and it's just indescribable, standing here in the center of it all. The only thing I have to compare it to is photos taken from the Apokolipton invasion of Metropolis years ago. I've even had a veteran paramedic or two mention that it reminded them hauntingly of the days they spent assisting rescue teams in Coast City."_

"_Nao Kelly, I'm sure we're all wanting to know—Are the superheroes themselves helping at all in the rescue and salvage effort?"_

"_Yes, that they are, Merilyn. And it is only fair to mention that—from every witness and bystander interviewed at the scene—the testimony appears to be unanimous: Victor Stone's Team was entirely responsible for the safe rescue of not only everyone inside the Johnson Shopping Center, but a train full of passengers that nearly crashed at the scene of destruction was also safely stopped before it could collapse into the street below. Many of the people here are still shaken up and distraught over the entire situation, but they haven't hesitated to credit the vigilantes of Stonetech Industries for the fact that they're all very much alive and safe tonight."_

"_That is good to hear. But still, it goes without saying—As much a part as Victor Stone's Team has played in safely rescuing everyone from the disaster, to what extent are people saying that they should be held responsible? That is to say, out of your many interviews conducted—has anyone suggested that they used **excessive** force in apprehending this suspected assassin? And, for that matter, **was** he ever apprehended?"_

"_No, Merilyn, he has not been. At least, that appears to be the consensus at the time being. There is no sign of the suspect at this point—the description of which is that of a six and a half foot Asian male clad in a dark suit of metallic armor, equipped with a complex technological arsenal of violent weapons. And as for the manner in which the young superheroes may or may not have used 'excessive force' in attempting to take this man daon—well, the studio should be getting some interesting footage at about this time, Merilyn, and it may shed more light on the matter. But, from most eyewitnesses, the damage was being dealt mostly by the suspect being pursued—that is, up until the confrontation at the Johnson Shopping Center, where reportedly the extraterrestrial member of Victor Stone's Team violently engaged the enemy while he was threatening to detonate a suicide bomb."_

"_That's incredible, Kelly. And did this young heroine survive the fight?"_

"_Yes, Merilyn. She survived; you may even be able to see her behind me, in a discussion with some of Jump City's Finest. Still, as for the suspect—the assassin—he has still yet to be found. It is the concensus of many rescue workers that he likely did not survive the blast. As eyewitnesses claim, he was wearing a vest full of explosives at the final moments of the fight—and it doesn't take much guesswork to know what likely caused the Johnson Shopping Center to collapse like you see behind me."_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

A darklit hospital room, cold and sterile in the dead of night, interrupted only by two machines—One with an incessant beeping, and the other one with an incessant chattering, namely:

"_Thank you for your report from the street, Kelly. But I apologize—for we must redirect this broadcast nao to the footage that she mentioned briefly earlier. It would appear that several of the eyewitnesses who were present in the Johnson Shopping Center had media devices with them—And we nao have in our studio this startling clip filmed from a miniature camera carried by of the bystanders at the moment when the battle reached its climax..."_

Sunk in the covers of the bed, her eyes fluttering open, Rali stirred. "Nnnngh...mmmph..." She gazed with thin brown eyes towards the near-antique television hovering in the corner above her. The girl squinted, her lips parting as she hissed drowsily: "R-Raven.. ... ...?"

"_We warn you, the following footage is sparsely edited and may be shocking to some viewers..."_

The anchorperson's face blipped away, replaced by a shaky cam from a lofty point of view peering daon over a safety railing, capturing several heroes standing off against a raving madman who stood in a fountain, his armor peeling away to reveal a vest of explosives wrapped about his torso.

"_**'I am your nemesis, Robin! And so long as you 'Teen Tragics' dwell in this City, seeking a blind fascimile of justice, I will make people SUFFER'!"**_

Rali frowned and sank deeper in her bed. "Oh... ...bugger all..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_**'WITNESS! THE WAGES OF HEROISM'!"**_

Doctor Hunnicutt sat in a reading chair inside his apartment, squinting through evening bifocals while dressed in robe with bed slippers. He turned a lamp off beside him and planted a clipboard of medical reports daon as he leaned his aged body forward to get a better view of the t.v. set.

The image of a bald madman flickered forth, waving his arms high as the squawking recording of his voice bellowed forth, taunting all of the battered and bruised young heroes before him:

"_**'ALAS! The motley crew is complete'!"**_

Hunnicutt grimaced, rubbing his grayed head. "Dear lord... ..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**'"Let the holocaust begin'!"**_

Inside a conference lounge at Stone Tech Industries... ...

Chairperson Drew sat at the head of the table, swiveled about in an office chair while an emergency meeting of all the company's top executives stared with bleary but horrified eyes at the footage crackling before them on the widescreen television.

The shaky cam managed to catch the entrance of an amber skinned alien smashing into the shopping center. At first sight of the suicidal madman, she launched a green projectile straight at his hand—knocking loose a remote in his grasp. In response, the villain merely spun to face up at her, snarling:

"_**'Are you expecting me to be impressed by that? Too late—Everyone here is dead because of you'!"**_

"_**'Murderous creature! By the Goddess' flame, I shall not let you harm another'!"**_

"_**'HA HA HA! Let battle be joined'!"**_

The alien girl mercilessly sailed into the bomb-strapped assassin, hurdling the two of them out of the camera frame—which was swiftly rattled as an off screen explosion erupted and the entire building started to collapse over the flailing, shrieking figure of the camera-person and then-

-static.

Murmurs and grumbles flew over the table. The executives gave each other weathered, worried looks. Chairperson Drew slowly—achingly—dragged her palm over her face with a sigh.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

In the heart of Cripes Street...

Detective Amy Cid stood under a floodlamp erected by paramedics and firefighters as she raised her hands from under her trenchcoat and gestured through the air to help herself formulate the following words:

"Okay. Lemme make sure we have all the details daon pat. Immediately following the flight of the suspect—who was _invisible_ to begin with, five of you gave chase. Then three of you engaged him—and not only was it immediately clear that this individual was more than evenly matched for three superheroes, but he showed a total disregard over the safety of himself and innocent bystanders. But regardless of that, you still engaged him—until two more of you joined—and _still_ he was more than the five of you could handle. And just as he raised the stakes by threatening to blow up a building full of people, the last and sixth member joined and engaged the suspect without provocation, so that he ultimately made true to his threat and detonated his charges—creating a hole in the western edge of Downtown. And still, after all of that, after a swath of destruction was paved through Jump City, after a section of the sewer system was wrecked to bits, after a subway station full of helpless people was terrorized, after a four story mall was brought daon on its foundation, after a train nearly derailed to take a swan leap into the Earth's crust—the suspect in question still got away. Is that just about hitting it on the bullseye, Mr. Stone?"

Silence.

Cid blinked. She squinted over. "Mr. Stone... ... ...?"

"... ... ... ... ..." Cyborg sat, hunched over on the crumpled hood of a burnt out car, staring listlessly into several mounds of rubble. The other five superheroes flanked him, also silent as steel, their various gazes not bothering to share a single common spot.

A few paces over, Detective Decker stood—making love to a cancer stick. He took a deep puff—gazing jerkingly back and forth from Cid to Cyborg to Cid to Cyborg to Cid again. He lowered the cigarette, exhaled a veritable bubble of smog, and throated hoarsely: "Victor. Hey **Kid**."

Cyborg looked up. He gazed boredly at Decker and merely grunted: "The explosion went off. The suspect is dead."

"We don't know that for certain!" Cid exclaimed, shrugging. "They're still shoveling through the makeshift Hamburger Hill behind us to see if any of his guts are squirming to be found! There's not even a strand of hair identified yet—_not that it matters, cuz the psychopath is reportedly bald—_and just who in the blue Hell was this guy anyway?"

"Isn't he one of yours, Robin?" Decker asked.

"We've fought. Yes." Robin replied with a cold nod. "But I've never possessively labeled Katarou as 'one of my villains', though."

Decker puffed, exhaled, gruffed: "That so? Well this 'Git-a-ro' seemed to have a pretty big hard on for you, kiddo."

"I know what he said-"

"Just what did he say?"

"He insisted that I was his nemesis."

"Nao why do you suppose that is?"

"I had very little time to read the madman..." Robin's eyemask narrowed. "But I could see just before it was too late that there was something more to what he was saying... ...to what he was doing..." He turned and gazed towards Victor. "He made mention of our past once, Cyborg. But aside from one battle—a battle that I lost to him over a year ago in a meeting that lasted no more than ten minutes—I had never done anything outright to challenge him, to antagonize him, or even to acknowledge him. It was a chance altercation—One that affected me greatly, yes, and made me travel around to train myself more. But I have not brushed paths with him since."

"He did set you up pretty good in the Himalayas with that Shiva bitch, though, didn't he... ...?" Cyborg remarked. It was in a dry, cold voice.

Robin merely stared through him, temporarily mute.

"What's that...?" Cid blinked.

"What I'm trying to get at... ..." Robin forced himself to look back at the two detectives. "... ...is that I have no clue what Katarou would want specifically _with me_. I left any and all 'nemeses' back in Gotham; and they were never mine to begin with, they were Batman's."

"Heh, sure, Bird Boy-"

"**And**..." Robin glared momentarily at Cid and turned his gaze more fixedly towards Decker. "... ...it seems more like it to me that Katarou's presence here in Jump City is something of a happenstance."

"In that he _**happened**_ to nearly kick your pimply asses..." Decker groaned. "Seriously, did you **_have_** to go Wrestlemania on him in the middle of a crowded shopping center? A subway? I don't personally mind the whole sewer system, fiasco. That's where I'd like to lay the napalm daon on a heartless bastard, but the other places just bruise my nicotine gills."

"We made a lot of mistakes tonight-"

"Pfft...You _**think**_?" Cid smirked.

"-but it stands within reason that Katarou was purposefully _drawing_ us into these places. Believe us, inspectors; we would have disengaged far sooner had we known just what sort of heat he was packing."

"Well, if you ask me..." Decker grunted and flicked his cigarette into the nearest chunk of debris. "... ..ya super-mutts should have backed off at the first sign that he and his boomsticks _wasn't_ going to back off. No direspect to the saving of Kobayashi's rich ass back there at the Vaughan Concert shin-dig-"

"I was there for that." Cid smirked. "Well played-"

"_Shhh! Don't crowd me, Betty Boop."_ Decker hissed at her and gazed daon the superheroes once more. "-But seriously, couldn't ya kids have eased up on the throttle some? You're in enough shit as it is, for god's sake."

"Who in the heck carries all of that freakin' firepower... ...?" Beast Boy suddenly spoke up, gazing off into the smoky horizon as he murmured more to himself than to anyone else. "Doom Patrol once went toe to toe with Intergang, and even _that_ was a walk in the park compared to this guy! I mean, half of his crap was too _kaizo_ for someone with his small weight of armor to be packing!"

"I've never encountered it either... ..." Stargirl shook her head listlessly, murmuring: "Not that it's any excuse, of course... ... ...But, it's a wonder that the maniac didn't make mince-meat out of everyone at the Vaughan Concert Hall if he _really_ wanted to do nothing short of creating a huge body toll."

"I know, r-right?.?.?" Beast Boy cackled.

"But he ran off... ..." Stargirl thought aloud. "He even led us a third of the way _through the City—_And to what end? Unless he just _snapped_ somewhere in the middle of the scuffle, it seemed for a moment there that he really wanted to get away. Or was it all... ... ...?" She bracedly bit her lip and gazed at Robin.

Robin nodded. "I'm not buying any of it for one bit. He wanted us here..." He pointed at the disheveled navel of Cripes Street beneath them. "Right here. He wanted to make a scene. The pathetic thing is—we gave him one. We gave this _City_ a scene."

"So, he went in over his head... ..." Cyborg grumbled. "And he bought it in the end."

"We don't _**know** that yet!"_Cid almost growled.

"He exploded. He's gone. He's dead. Simple as that..." Cyborg stood up.

"Look, kid..." Decker grumbled, adjusting his collar. "It ain't that simple-"

"It doesn't matter-"

"It sure as **hell** matters!" Decker snapped. "A psycho nut case like that may not be so much of a psycho nut case if it turns out that he has an exit strategy!"

"And what's got you so desperate to prove he's not dead?" Cyborg barked.

"I'm a goddam detective! I think of this sort of stuff!" Decker pointed. "And if you wanna so much as _pretend_ to be a leader, much less a participant in this line of work—superheroic or not—you gotta start asking the same questions! Hell, you've got enough spectromical dildos in your index finger alone to start scanning this place and find out faster than the rest of us cavemen combined!"

"I-I know it's h-hard to tell..." Raven sickly murmured, rubbing her temples achingly as she stood on the fringe of the heated gathering. "... ...wh-what with all of the panicked, jumbled emotions of this part of Town... ... ...but I'm pretty sure that if Katarou died, I would have sensed it. There's a brief void—a '_tear'_, if you will—in the fabric of the astral plane when a mortal life crosses over to the-"

"And I'm telling you-" Cyborg spun and actually managed to startle the sorceress with his outburst: "It **doesn't matter!.!.!"** He growled and swung an arm towards the holocaustal scene, gesturing. "You think any of _**this**_ will go away if it turns out that Robin's long lost sparring partner pulled a Houdini out of his Ass?"

"_Again, I'm telling you, he and I have nothing in-"_

"And kudos to you, Boy Wonder, for telling me about this Asian Stone Cold Steve Austin on Steroids before we even founded this team!" Cyborg snarlingly held up a metal finger. "And before you go on defending your _immaculate_ reputation like the broken record you are, lemme just say that **I don't give a damn!** You should have told me this stuff so I would have known any and all forms of inhumanly disrespectul lumps of garbage you might have brought marching here into my home city with a fetish for revenge!"

"Cyborg-"

"He caught us with our britches daon, caught _**you**_ with your tights daon, and then proceeded to bring the _entire house_ daon!" Cyborg stamped his foot, causing the nearby ground to shake and wobble the already uneasy teenagers. "For the love of _**GOD**_ people! We trained for this kind of crap! I counted on each and every one of you to fight—Not just to survive—but to overwhelm and contain any and all would-be-murderous-mofos like the punk who flat out _owned_ us tonight like we were recess fodder straight out of kindergarten!"

"Dude... ...Victor..." Beast Boy folded his arms and chuckled. "Take a bit of a breather, buddy! In case you forgot, we kinda sorta stopped Kobayashi from losing his head and held a murderous psychopath back from burning a hole through anyone else! That's one battle with zero fatalities! Heh, I mean, that's gotta earn your crime fighting team some banana stickers sooner than later-"

Cyborg spun with a devilish howl: "And **you**! **You** shut **your** _goddam_ mouth up for once **you** lame, unfunny **poser**!"

Beast Boy blinked at him. Petrified.

"I mean it! This was never a time to joke. Never was. Never will be. We got buttraped tonight, Seinfeld! You ever had that happen to you when you were with the Doom Patrol? No. And I'll tell you why. Cuz you were nothing but their trained pet monkey! This and this alone was your chance to be a real superhero for once—_And you blew it!_ So don't go making jokes to cover our asses because _nobody_ is going to let us live daon this night! _Nobody!_ Fifth Street was a walk in the park, but this-?"

"Cyborg..." Robin cleared his throat and calmly shuffled over. A low voice: "I think, perhaps, you should consider waiting until your temper's-"

"No. I'm **done** listening to you!" Cyborg stormed. "Are you the leader of this team, Robbie? Huh? Is it _your_ inheritance funding the so-called backbone of this group? Are you the one who's gonna have to spill out the paychecks to clean up for this fiasco, or answer to Kneehouse? And—_Oh God Almighty—_I haven't even **BEGUN** to think of what she's gonna say about this whole gallivanting shitstorm of an evening! You know why? Because I know exactly what she's gonna say! We're **through**! Done! Finito! Yesterday's trash! Scott Hall! The whole ball of wax flushed daon a goddam toilet! Heaven help us if Nancy right nao isn't already tossing the towel in with all of my investors—You know what that means? Bye bye Stone Tower! Bye bye Phaser Labs! Bye bye luxurious hole-in-the-wall bunkrooms while a gaggle of picket-sign-waving protestors huddled above our sorry asses, prophecying the half-assed mockery of any crusade we could ever—_ever—_have hoped to pursue in ridding this City of its infernal, elusive, god-forsaken Underworld!"

"Listen, kid..." Decker rubbed his forehead and gestured. "Fabulous pep talk. Really gonna help the girl scouts sell their cookies. But your little bird boy's right. Take five, will ya? I haven't had a drop of alcohol in weeks, and yet you're making me feel like I've got a hangover."

"He's right. I'll talk to Kneehouse... ..." Cid remarked, her hands held out as she tried to smile. "Maybe I can win over some favor with the fact that you saved Kobayashi from an assassin's—erm—glowy death ball, and then she might-"

"Detective Cid—with all due respect—_cram it."_ Victor frowned.

Stargirl bit her lip. She walked over. "Cyborg, she only meant to-"

"She's patronizing us." Cyborg sharply shrugged Courtney off and frowned Cid's way. "All of them are—The whole Department. Decker, you're a godsend in the devil's clothing, but you're not of much help either. Nobody in your high-and-mighty department has _ever_ shown any ounce of support for what I've been trying to accomplish here. I don't care hao bad tonight looks—Kneehouse's decision was obvious from the get go. And don't y'all pretend to be going at bat for us, cuz you ain't planning to do shit. You're on her side. Always have been. And as far as I'm concerned—fighting an entire _legion_ full of invisible armored-to-the-teeth assassin mofos wouldn't have made a difference, no matter _hao_ many lives we saved, like the ones we _did save_ tonight, you ungrateful bunch of overpolished-"

"That's **enough**, kiddo." Decker frowned. "You're just making it worse!"

"Am I?" Victor cackled, waving his arms around. "Hao in the _Hell_ could it _possibly_ be any **worse**?"

"The explosion was not from his vest... ... ..."

Victor went cross-eyed. He spun and looked over at Koriand'r's hovering figure. "Ex_**cuse**_ me?"

All that time, the Tamaranian girl had been levitating a good two meters from the street, clutching her amber arms to herself as she gazed into a deep cloud of thought. "I have been in many a heated, airborn conflict before. I know hao to take a spatial measure of my environment at all times. Presently, I have been going over the last few seconds of the altercation with that fiend, over and over again, in my mind. And I can only come to one conclusion..." Starfire looked daon at her team leader. "I was _still grasping onto him_ when the explosion went off. He did not perish, for it was not his explosive vest that detonated."

"And if it didn't, just what the Hell did-?" Cyborg began, but Robin stepped in front of him.

"A pre-planted device... ... ..." The Boy Wonder remarked, his eyemask thin in revelation. "... ...of course. That would explain why he led us to this location. If he could fake his suicide bombing and narrowly escape by means of the same technology he used to combat us so evenly-"

"H-He could have painted the situation as though we forced his hand." Stargirl joined in, clutching her rod thoughtfully—a brief but resurging energy rising from within.

"The dude did have a lot of tricks up his sleeve... ..." Beast Boy broke his own petrified silence to say. "... ...kinda makes sense that he'd go out with a bang."

"Dammit—Can't you all accept the fact that he's _**dead**_?" Cyborg groaned, rubbing the human half of his head. "What y'all are doing here is reaching—_you hear me?_ No theory we invent here is gonna excuse us for what's gone daon! And even if Katarou _**did**_ set this all up, and even if he **_did_** survive; none of that means crap! Don't you see? He fired his cannons and made us lose control over ours! The damage is done! It's _**over!**_"

Starfire squinted at him. "You, dear Victor—You who would have such optimistic and heroic dreams for this team and this City—_You_ would be _so quick_ to _discount_ what may very well be a potential clue to solving the mystery that still lies before us?"

"Dammit—There _ain't no mystery_ aside from what y'all are inventing to try to make us feel better! Just **drop** it!" He pointed with a sudden and fierce frown. "**You** of all people should know better than to make suggestions!"

The Tamaranian frowned. "Did I not tell you that I was still engaged with the man, unharmed, moments after the explosion went-?"

"Dammit, Girl—That's not the point! Can't you see that? You think this metall skull of mine is filled with ravioli? I'm an expert in blast waves and bomb ordinance, Kory! And I've got the computerized circuitry to calculate it all! The sort of explosives Katarou was packing wasn't enough to make an entire building fall apart! Level a wall and fill the interior of the place with shrapnel, sure! But not produce a full, pulverizing concussion that made the entire building-"

"And I reiterate, friend Victor, it were not the explosives on his chest that-"

"You dove into him, Starfire!" Victor shouted. "You flew daon, took one look at the situation, and without asking me—without waiting for my express order—you impulsively and foolishly muscled your way into the scene and made a murderous situation even _worse_!"

"I... ...I-I... ..." Starfire stirred, sweat beads forming on her amber forehead. "Th-There were so many people in danger. You, my friends, everyone—And he was about t-to make each and every one of you perish and I-"

"**You brought the whole goddam house daon is what you did!"** Cyborg shouted. "For god's sake, Starfire! Haven't we gone over this? In the training? In the briefings? You must—_**MUST—**_keep firm control over your powers! I don't know hao many times I've warned you—And yet time and time again I'm just having to sit back and watch you turn a street into a gaping hole to stop a gunman, or nearly kill a man with the flick of your alien fist! Well enough is enough, Starfire! If you have any respect for the chain of command—Can't you do this one simple thing? Can't you hold back?"

"There were lives on the line—I had no choice but to put faith in X'hal and act-"

"You sure as Hell _didn't_ have to act!_"_ Cyborg retorted. "There comes a time when you need to think, Starfire! I don't care what you call it! Faith or not; it's just plain stupid!"

"V-Victor-!" Stargirl began-

Starfire's fists clenched as she growled: "I have flown through the fiery tongues of stars, survived hyperspeed impacts with moons, crossed the thresshold of jumpgates, escaped Citadelian armadas, and broken free from the bondage of slavery—All riding the warmth of X'hal's blessed grace and intellect! And you, dearest Victor, are but an angry Terran whose tongue is slipping faster than his decency can currently keep hold of it. And it is for that reason and that reason alone that I—in good faith—am resisting every '_stupid'_ impulse I presently have to impale you into the ground upon which you stand."

"I can't let your pride and meatheadness get in the way of this team's success here in Jump City anymore-"

"Vat'rm fulejaat siul, Chlorbag!" Starfire spat. "Have I not told you? It is more than pride that has helped me survive in space-"

"Fantastic! And since you're such a goddamn natural swimmer in space, why don't you do us all a favor and go back there!" Victor blunted.

Stargirl gasped. Beast Boy gulped. Raven shut her eyes.

"... ... ... ... ... ..." A tear rolled down Starfire's cheek; two tears. All the while, she was frowning, stone-still. A shuddering inhale, and she murmured—more to the group than just to Cyborg. "So be it. An imperceivably long time ago, I came back to this planet—amidst a tempest of unimaginable hardships—because I believed in a dream, a very delightful dream, that I might finally find a place where I could be _nice_... ...and live _nice_... ... ..and do things that were _nice_."

She drifted up to the sky, all the while the other teenagers gazed. The two detectives too.

A few meters into her ascent, haoever, she stopped...gazing back daon with a shivering breath. "But that is no longer the case. I cannot tell what is nice anymore. Not on this planet." _**FWOOOSH!**_ She rocketed skywards.

"... ... ..." Robin slowly gazed down towards the rubble-strewn street.

Cyborg exhaled, muttering through a permanent scowl: _"Good riddance... ..."_ The young man turned around—and walked right into a vicious slap across the cheek. _WHAP!_ He blinked, his human side reddened.

Courtney glared up at him, shaking furiously. "Good riddance? _Good riddance?.?.?_ Good riddance to **you**, Victor! Heaven help you if you can't so much as _thank_ Starfire for tossing her body selflessly into two explosions for you today! First to save a theatre full of people from a floating golden death ball thingy! And then secondly to give a murderous creep his just desserts! And would it kill you to so much as show her any ounce of appreciation for sticking faithfully by your side all these weeks as you led us on a wild goose chase to believe in your _stupid dream_ about uncovering this _stupid_ Underworld?"

He rubbed his cheek. "It's n-not stupid-"

"It _**is**_ stupid! And **_you're_** stupid!" Courtney stamped her boot, growling up at his face-halves. "Stupid for letting some crazy obsession make you so mixed up and angry inside that you flat out insult the sweetest, most endearing, most tenacious living thing that has ever crossed your arrogant path ever!"

She spun and glanced, glared, glanced, glared at everyone in a circle about her.

"I came here—to this team—not just to be nice, like Starfire, which I believe in—But because I am _sick_ to _death_ of always worrying about the big picture! I want to be a _hero_! I want to _save people!_ But if running around in circles, causing mayhem, and then excusing it all as our keeping our eyes locked onto the _Big Picture_ is what this team is all about, then it's _exactly_ like the JSA—And quite frankly, I don't want any part of it!"

She spun once more and glared daggers at the man who was her team leader for the next thirteen seconds. "So _good riddance?_ _Good riddance_ to **you**! You big old... ... ...big old.. ...snkkkt...**STUPID!**" _**FWOOOOOSH!**_ She soared off via the cosmic rod, burning a yellow streak skyward, straight after Starfire. "Kory! Koriand'r—Wait up! Please...!"

"H-Hey! Stargirl—Don't go!" Beast Boy hopped up and daon, panting. "Wait, just—snnkkt—Just let's talk about this! Don't fly off-!"

"Let her..." Cyborg muttered. "... ...it's all falling apart."

Beast Boy spun, viciously sweatdropping. "Dude! I—It-Snkkt-Hao can you **say that**?.?.?"

"I'm leaving." Raven droned, opening a portal. **FLASH!**

"Huh—Wait, no—RAE! WAIT!" Beast Boy hobbled over.

"I need to be alone." She rubbed her temples and marched through the black disruption. "**Don't** follow me."

"Please don't-"

_**FLASH!**_ She was gone.

"Where... ...Wh-Where's everyone going...?" Garfield panted, almost hyperventilating. "Wh-What's going on here...?"

"What do you think? They've beaten us..." Cyborg grunted. A chiming sound suddenly went off from his forearm. He raised a human eyebrow and glanced daon at it.

"I don't get it—WHO WON?"

Cyborg plinked away at the forearm. A familiar datastream chirped to life. "The Underworld. Somehao...they all planned this-"

"Ah jeez, Victor—COME ON!" Beast Boy cackled, his body sagging as if he was giving his shadow the sharpshooter. "This is way too pathetic! Even for us! Aren't you going to go after them? Syriously—Go after Stargirl and Starfire, at least. Raven, I know would eat you alive. But go after the _happy_ women! Make them come back-"

"I've got no time to make three different women leaving in two separate directions to come back to one team that has had zero hopes for them to bother sticking with in the long run." The datastream repeated a transmission string that Cyborg had seen earlier that night—just as Katarou made his invisible flight from the Vaughan Concert Hall. "Right nao... ...barring Ragnorak... ...I may just have landed myself a clue."

"Cyborg—Will you at least _listen_ to yourself? You're sounding like a frickin' robot, man! Be a team leader and lead a _**team**_!"

"You wanna be a team?" He traced the source of the carrier signal and jogged off in a southeasterly direction. "Grow some balls, shut you yapper, and follow me—For what good it will do us both. I've got a mystery to solve."

"I... ...I-I... ..." Beast Boy blinked beady-eyes. He glanced around, eventually letting his gaze fall on the capeless crusader. "Robin... ... ...?"

"... ... ..." Robin looked at Cyborg marching off, at the rubble-strewn streets, at the emergency workers, at Cid and Decker, then back at Beast Boy. "_Somebody_ has to stay here and see to the cleanup." He unemotionally but very truthfully drawled.

"... ... ... ... .." Beast Boy blinked, blinked, shook—and finally scampered off after the half-android. "H-Hey! Hey Cyborg, wait up! Jeez...!"

The air about the middle of the street hung in silence. Deaffening.

Not long into it, Detective Cid rubbed the back of her neck—waved a cell phone grasping hand—and marched off towards her squad car. Detective Decker, meanwhile, stood his ground—slapping his pack of cigarettes against his palm. But before he bothered to pull a cancer stick out, he paused, icily glanced at Robin, and gave him a somber nod, murmuring: "If Vic won't stay put, then somebody else is gonna have to talk face to face with Kneehouse. You do realize that, right?"

Robin slowly nodded. "Believe me. After tonight—The Commissioner will be a breath of fresh air."

"Fresh air... ...I could use some of that..." Decker mumbled through his cigarette, lighting it.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"K-Kory...!" Stargirl shouted through the night air as she roared upwards against the frictious winds of accelerated flight. "Kory—Please! Please wait!"

"Cease and desist your pursuit, I implore you... ..." A teary eye Starfire roared from above. The Bay of Jump City bowled and boiled beneath her as she continued rocketing her emerald way towards the stratosphere. "I do not desire to be interceded upon-!"

_**FWOOOSH!**_ The Star Spangled Kid effortlessly outshot the alien girl, hovering directly in front of her via her grip of the golden rod. "Please, Koriand'r. I insist—Just stop for a moment and _talk_ to me!"

"There is nothing worth talking about... ..." Koriand'r sneered, eyes momentarily sizzling in a venemously hot green. "Have you not heard the words of Victor? My presence is a disproportionately powerful and detrimental blight upon this world-"

"Kory-"

"Even y-you would do well not to t-talk to me or else I m-may surely snap your head off with a single breath-!"

"Don't be dramatic, Kory!" Courtney clung to the cosmic rod and hovered backwards directly in front of the alien girl. "We all make mistakes! Especially hot headed, half-android people with their egos fermenting in the place where their hearts should be! Please... ..._please_ don't go! Stay and talk to me..."

"Hnnnngh..." Koriand'r clenched her eyes shut, fists formed into subconscious starbolts. A quivering wracked her entire body until, in a groaning surrender, she deflatedly drifted down, down, down—Courtney trailing—so that she landed softly on top of a structure, which turned out to be none other than...

The half constructed Stone Tower. Dark waves lapped around the jagged island on all sides of them as the two girls lingered on what could have been, would have been—their future home.

"Kory—I don't know what I can summon or say to convince you not to leave this planet, but I implore you—_Stay!_ Please stay! If it helps, tell me what I must do to keep you from leaving, Because of all the horrible things that have happened, all the terrible things we hav encountered, all the horrible scrapes that we have been through—The one and only one thing that has made it worth it is you, to have had a chance to fight alongside you, to have been able to bask in your spirit of joy, kindness, and _hope_, Kory—_Please-_"

"I do not know the significance of my presence here... ..." Koriand'r shuddered. She gazed around the lengths of the half-built Tower around her, and as she did so she clutched herself to weather a sudden wave of trembling. "Nothing I do seems to have any effect—Nothing _anyone_ endeavors to do seems to yield any effect-"

"Don't say that, Kory! You alone have saved so many people and stopped so many villains-"

"And in what fashion does it add up? Everything is so...s-so needlessly complicated..." She ran a hand over her face and shuddered as the sounds of crashing waves surrounded her like a cocoon. "I learned a lesson here several months ago—or so I had thought—that it made a difference to simply be nice, in a world starved of generosity and the relevance of people who possessed great power to exhibit such. It was in this spirit that we fought off certain disaster with the Gordanians—that Robin taught me a lesson I never thought I would force myself to learn—that... ...that... ..." She sniffed, tears welling up as she finally gazed daon at the dark waters. ".. ... ..that my little _bumforf_ sacrificed himself for... ..." A shuddering breath, and she gazed up at Courtney through brimming green eyes. "Things would be s-so much more magnificent, and full of clarity—I would think—if _Robin_ had been leading this team all along."

Courtney sighed. "But this isn't Robin's team."

"I-I know, dearest Courtney...I know..."

"Still, it doesn't make anything you've ever done since you came here any less significant-"

"Victor is so angry, so disheartened and temperamental-"

"And people can do amazing things when they're angry, huh?" Courtney smiled hopefully. "Sometimes amazingly stupid, and sometimes amazingly beautiful..."

"I do not feel anger anymore... ..." Starfire growled, the sniffled. "I feel... ...I-I feel..."

"It's okay, Koriand'r..." Courtney drifted forward.

"Nnnnghhhhh-hgnnnnn..." Starfire whimpered and clutched hard to the Star Spangled Kid, weeping into her shoulder.

"It's okay..." The blonde held her, weathering her sobs, as the Jump City Bay haloed the two in syphonous thunder.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**TH-THAP!**_ Cyborg's boots came daon onto the top of an abandoned apartment building in Old Downtown, several miles east of the Johnson Shopping Center. Recovering from the effort of the lunging, sonic leap—He stood up, muscles whirring, and marched icily towards a large shack positioned at the far end of the rooftop. He plinked away at the armband computer console shimmering before him from his wrist. The wavering frequency reading of the peculiar transmission flickered and danced before him with each step he took.

_Swooosh!_ A green pelican flew daon for a landing, hopping up into a green elf. "Okaaaaaay... ... ...So either we're here for a Mary Poppins sketch, or there's _truly_ something important about this place that made the frigidly silent trip across Town worth it...?"

"I thought I made myself obvious a few minutes ago... ..." Cyborg muttered, pointing at his wrist while gazing ahead. "Earlier, when Katarou made his escape—I caught this transmission along a narrow frequency. It lasted the entire length of his flight."

"And that means _what_ exactly?"

"Quite possibly—That whoever set Katarou to the task of royalling whooping our behinds, they kept a remote communication open with the punk at all times. If we can find the source of the signal—We might be able to get to the bottom of who set up the debacle with Kobayashi and why."

"That simple, huh?"

"Nothing's ever that simple—"

"Heh...of course not." Beast Boy suddenly stepped in front of Cyborg with a hand stretched out, forcing him to stop in his tracks. "Here, dude. At least let me get the scent of the place, make sure we're not walking into a crap or whatnot."

"... ... ...nngh..." Cyborg eventually sighed. "All right. Go ahead."

The emerald elf shrunk daon into a bloodhound and swept his way across the rooftop, approaching the shack and its rusted doorframe.

Cyborg stared at him. A blink, and his human eye rounded slightly. He exhaled long and hard, finally wrenching his gaze away from his armband instruments in time to say: "Look, BB... ... ..._Garfield_. I've been under a lot of stress, and the all too likely fact that our team may be going kaputzy has set my blood to boil. So—I've said things that were mean to you, and they weren't fair. I really can't expect you to do so, but, if you have the heart to forgive me, I apologize-"

"Eh... ...It's nothing to be so worked up about..." Beast Boy morphed back into a humanoid, pressing his ear against the shack's door. "I kinda like being a team's trained monkey."

"Beast Boy-"

"Don't fret so much over it, Vic..." He smiled deflatedly over his shoulder. "I'm a washed out former child actor with a sidekick complex. There's very little you _could say_ to insult me in a way I've never heard before. So, yanno, all water off the green duck's back."

"That's not the _point_."

"Is there really a point?" Beast Boy sniffed, his face scrunching up against the doorframe. "Well, I smell nobody inside. And no fuel or gas or any explosive material. But still... ..."

"Works for me..." Cyborg marched up and reared his metal foot. "I suggest you step aside..."

"Stepping aside-" Beast Boy shuffled to the left just as-

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**P-POW!**_ Victor Stone kicked the door clear off its hinges. An echoing, metallic ring filled the darklit interior of the shack as starlight softly poured in to revealed an abandoned interior.

Cyborg took a mighty step inside, his left arm raised into a sonic cannon while his skeletal right wrist braced it. _**CL-Clakka!**_ He glanced left and right, human and robot eye steely-squinting.

"Hmmmm... ...Uh, Vic?" The pointy-eared metamorph slid in alongside him. "I know I haven't smelled anything... ...But this place just doesn't _sit right_ with me. Why would there be a transmission from this dump of all places—And then nobody here when we come investigate?"

"Stupid punks knew we'd be coming the moment the news started broadcasting we lived through Katarou's episode." Cyborg grunted, shuffling inside as shoulder-mounted flashlights lit up the rest of the place. "I rightfully don't blame them. I'm angry enough to drop-kick the moon up their cowardly asses."

"You? Angry? Jee, Cyborg, I had no idea-"

"_Shhh!_ Over there... ..." Cyborg motioned as the halo of projected light caught a cold series of server towers on the far side of the place. "That's what was sending the transmission."

"Whew. Pretty slick mainframes. So, like—What nao? We take this stuff in as evidence-?"

"If I was a bad guy, and I knew anything about what I was doing—I would have this system performing a self-reformat, in order to eliminate all data connected with the criminal psychopath from before..." Cyborg marched over. "If I'm lucky, though... ...I may be able to extract some of the data before it's erased for good."

"Hao, exactly?"

"The hard way." Cyborg raised a hand to the back of his neck. He hit an invisible switch. A whurring noise, and the circular charging station opened in his skull, producing several elecrically brimming digicords that he strung out in a metal grasp. "Or the _easy_ way. Depends on hao you see it."

"Whoah, Vic—You're gonna link up with this thing? I don't know the first thing about computers—But isn't that risky?"

"I can't hold back nao, Beast Boy. I gotta find out exactly what these jerks were up to and why."

"Aren't you letting the intensity of this situation get to your head?" He blinked. "**Literally**?"

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing... ..." Victor stuck the cables from his skull into the rogue computer, plinked away at his armband, and stared straight forward. "Trust me."

"It's not that I don't trust you, I'm just worried about you, man..." Beast Boy shuddered and hugged himself as he gazed out the door from which they came. "Even if we get what we need from this place, I dunno who we've got to report back to, to share the good news with! To think that we may not see Starfire again—or Courtney for that matter. I mean, come on, Victor. Even if you haven't entirely cooled off by nao, can't you see hao much of a _rut_ we're nao in without them?"

Silence.

"... ... ...Vic?"

More silence.

Beast Boy glanced up. "Victor?" He blinked—then gasped. "C-Cyborg-!"

"... ... ... ..." The half android in question was staring straight forward, his human eye glazed over, his robot eye blinking faster and faster as he simply stood there, catatonic, his brown iris slowly, slowly dilating—sinking...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_**Victor.**"_

"_Nnngh!" Victor Stone gasped, surrounded in darkness. He glanced left, glanced right, shuddering at the endless black that encompassed him. "Where am I-?" He raised both hands to his head—two human hands. He blinked wildly at them, gaping, realizing he was completely in the flesh, completely naked. "Aw Hell... ...Good and not good in so many dishes..."_

"_**Hmmmmm... ...Heh heh heh heh..."**_

"_H-Huh?" Victor gasped, sweating, staring wide-eyed across the shadowy expanse. His voice echoed as he shouted: "What gives? Show yourself, punk!"_

"_**Heheheheheheh..."**_

"_Who are you?.?.?.?"_

_The strange voice emanated from all sides of the young man, as if cyclonically rising up from the bowels of the great nether to encircle Victor. The teenager felt as if the world was spinning out of control, circles within circles dancing around him._

"_**Spin spin spin... ...ohhhhh what interesting stories we do weave, Mr. Stone. But you? All you wish to do is unravel. Hmm... ...Well... ...I can't let you do that to my City-this majestic garden which I have planted. Heads spin enough without your self-righteous hunger throwing a ravenous wrench into the equation."**_

_"Was it you...?.!.?" Victor shouted into the chuckling vortex. "Was it you who sent Katarou? You who threw Kobayashi into the thick of things... ...?"_

_"**So accusatory. So volatile! I can see nao hao tolerating your presence here would make great sport."** Out from the thick blackness, a silhouette of a man lingered, hunched over and frail, leaning on what looked like a cane or a staff while a pointed hat brimmed his obscured skull. "**But just like you, I am an impatient man. And I have things I must tend to, things that you are no longer a bothersome nuisance to, all things considered."**_

_"I don't know what game you're playing—But know this!" Victor growled. "With everything that is in my power, at my disposal—I will stop you! Your ass is as good as **gone **the moment the Underworld sees the light of day-"_

_"**And is that what you think I am? The Hades to your fabled kingdom...?"** The shriveled figure's shoulders heaved against the walls of darkness. **"... ...I am much more than that, Mr. Stone. I am the end to everything you have endeavored to accomplish. For everything you've dreamed, I am the consumer, the annihilator, and the birther to order in Jump City all the same!"** Suddenly, the sihlouette's limbs caught ablaze—a set of horns protruded from his head, singed in flame—as a pair of demonic eyes pierced the great nether in one murderous gaze. **"I am Antithesis!"**_

_**PHWOOOO-OOOO-OOOOOOOOMB!** A rising tornado of fire and brimstone rose up around Victor, melting away at his flesh and bone. The teenager screamed—howled-as the steam of his bubbling skin rose up to his flaring nostrils. He stared with evaporating tears as his hands collapsed into bloodied stubs, his entire body shrinking as his voice reached a higher pitch. For as he was burning alive, he was also turning younger—rolling back the years with each blink—so that he was soon a weeping child, a howling toddler, and then a shrieking infant curled up into an agonized ball—surrounded by the rising whirlwind of circles within circles of all consuming hellfire about him in the darkness._

"_**Hah hah hah hah hah hah—The game is OVER!"**_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**P-POWWW!**_ He metal half of Cyborg's head exploded, his red eyes shimmering with electrical sparks and titanium shrapnel. His hulking comatose weight fell back—every joint and servo smoking hotly from within as he slammed mindlessly into the floor of the shack below. **_TH-THUD!_**

"Holy Pop-Tarts! CYBORG!" Beast Boy shrieked. He knelt daon beside him—grasped his shoulder once, and immediately yanked the burnt hand back from the sizzling metal. "Oh god—Oh god no, Cyborg—Speak to me!"

Victor's feet and shoulders twitched. The smoke billowed out from his ears and nostrils. The sparks leapt out from his exposed cranial circuitry as every blue light that was alive in his form dimmed daon to a charred shadow of his former existence.

"**Cyborg!"**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 24, 2004... ... ...Before Sunrise... ...Nao)**

"_So then, dear Rachel..." _The homeless shadow of a man asked her, his voice driftly smooth as silk across the pre-dawn air of Jump City Park. "_Why are you looking so daon...?"_

"I don't want to talk to you right nao," Raven grunted, rubbing her aching head. Sniffling a little.

"_But who do you have left to talk to? It would seem that you and your friends have had a falling out."_

"I assume that you **heard** me just nao-"

"_I would like to hear more. You know that I am always wanting to hear what you have to say..."_ The figure's shadowed head turned to gaze at her, and for a brief moment four _**red**_ eyes shimmered from within, gazing at her with patient adoration. _"...my dear daughter."_


	18. The Matter of Our Discussion

**(Several Weeks Ago)**

She wandered through a forest, trembling, breathing irregularly—each tiny dance of moonlight against the leaves and branches held promise of a wayward phantom, ready to pounce upon her. A frightened heart thundered under a blue robe as she clasped the weighted amulet to her bosom and wandered listlessly through the cold chill of a November night, looking for Dr. Fate's tower.

At last, she came to a clearing—but it was not the location that she was looking for. A train depot stretched before her, with a long railroad stretching beyond the inky horizon. She sighed and nearly slumped against a brick wall, overwhelmed by the inexplicable labyrinth of the mortal world, replete with a wave of feelings, emotions, and wayward spirits—bombarding her from all angles—a soul-wrenching wilderness of living, breathing, _people_...

She was about to cast a levitation spell and continue her search from the air when a shuffling of footsteps from her peripheral forced her to swivel and stare in a blink-

-and four _**red**_ eyes peered back, calmly, from the brow of an elderly train station worker as he walked up, waving.

"_Hello, Rachel. If you're looking for Dr. Fate's tower, it is two kilometers to the east-"_

"Get away from me!" The child shrieked, violet eyes flaring as she flung a wrist towards the man in a spasmatic fit of horror. _**FL-FLASH!**_

The old man fell back against a luggage carrier with a _**thump!**_ "Ooof!" He winced, shook his head, and blinked two normal human eyes towards the sudden sorceress. "H-Huh? What in God's green Earth... ...? Where am I... ...?"

But she had disappeared in a bubbling vortex, leaving the hapless stranger alone in the sweat-stained echo of crickets and owl cries.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Raven levitated through the streets of Jump City. The purplish aura of a crisp January evening reflected off her glassy gaze as she made a bee-line for downtown, her vision locked on an emerald flame as she traced the arc of the descending green comet in an effort to survey the damage.

As she skirted around the corner, a homeless woman pushing a shoppint cart turned to glance at the blue-robed sorceress. Four _**red**_ eyes suddenly flashed from the Jump City regular's forehead as she called out:

"_Ah, so you're rid of the amulet. Looks like you found Fate after all."_

Raven shuddered. She snarled over her shoulder: "I have no time to talk with you."

"_A lie that neither of us believes, my daughter."_ The woman's lips curved. _"Surely there is nothing in this City so important that we must avoid our first family chat in years...?"_

"Leave me alone." Raven grunted and levitated higher, faster—towards the heart of downtown, where a motley crew of young superheroes had already gathered.

The homeless waif merely grinned at the sight of the fleeting young girl. But as she disappeared from sight, so did the four eyes. And the dazed woman, only briefly disoriented, resumed murmuring to herself and shoving the shopping cart down towards a burning barrel surrounded by fellow homeless...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

A flurry of sleet frigidly blanketed the streets below St Faustina chapel. Up in the belltower, surrounded by gothic stone and kaleidoscopically enshrouded in stained glass refraction, Raven stat, cross-legged, and did her vain best to meditate.

"Azarath... ...Metreon... ...Zinthos. Azarath... ...Metreon... ...Zinthos..."

In the far corner was a makeshift mattress, a few tattered bedsheets, and a cluttered array of food supplies. Raven's current home was a humble one; she hadn't even bothered to brush away half the sea of dust that blanketed the area. While the belfry remained in shambles, she spent the lonely, cold January evenings attempting to clean up her mind.

So deep was she in meditation, she almost didn't notice the footsteps until their echoes were immediately upon her. A priest in dark dress marched up and stood several meters from her, outside the halo of dull rainbow-tainted-sunlight beaming daon through the dusty aura.

"_Look at you; a young girl taking refuge in a place of worship, your heart and soul taking precedent over body and comfort. You are, without a doubt, a spitting image of your mother when I met her."_

"Possessing the body of a priest... ..." Raven managed to stay calm this time, merely droning. "... ...really?"

"_Nothing is sacred in a world where the concept of 'spirit' has been split to oblivion along with the atom." _ The elderly cleric shrugged, his **red** eyes blinking. _"I've seen it in countless civilizations. Sooner than later, the bleak nature of common sense makes people rely too much on common sense, and then they can never comprehend me by the time that I make my arrival."_

"Well, you're not arriving **here**.. ..." Raven grunted. "So get lost."

"_Ah..."_ The priest smiled, his four **red**eyes thinning as he wagged a finger. "_... ..but I would have to be here in the first place before I could consider taking you up on your rather audacious imperative."_

"I know what you are... ..." The girl's eyes were shut, as if in a constant, insistent effort to _ignore_ the voice coming from the priest's body. "And I am not afraid of an astral phantom of cross-spatial projection."

"_But you **are** afraid of something connected with me, are you not, Rachel? I do hope you know hao much the thought of that hurts me."_

"I could frankly care less."

"_Again, you wound me so. I suppose I cannot blame you; what—with all the incessant propaganda that Arella and her spiritually-clouded friends suffocated you with. And to which end? Hate me all you wish, my daughter, but I wasn't the one who abandoned you and left you for years to fend for your lonesome soul self. It was **them**."_

"What was done to me... ..." She finally opened her eyes from where she 'meditated'. A piercing frown. "... ...And the lengths I have gone through to become what I am... ... ...is something I am deeply proud of, especially if it means preventing _you_ from entering this world _for real_."

"_Reality is what we make of it, child. There may come a day when you will see through the facade of this self-important world of unequal checks and balances; and in a detestable fit of wisdom and clarity—you might fatefully seek my aid in establishing a reality you never before dreamed of."_

"Get **out**." Raven sneered.

The priest half-bowed and shuffled backwards through the shadows. "_As you wish, Rachel. But so you'll know—You're never as alone as you make yourself out to think. And beside..."_ The four red eyes dissipated in the dusty blackness. _"... ...you really should stop blaming yourself for his death."_

"Whose death are you talking about?"

"_Please, child, you cannot lie to me."_

"... ... ... ..." Raven exhaled, her eyes suddenly concave in a glassy look of pain. She lowered her lids and was stabbed once again by a night of green flame, of heartless explosions, of a giant metallic monstrosity hurtling into Jump City Bay. She tried meditating to clear her soul of the memories—but suddenly couldn't. "... ... ...blast it, father... ..." She sneered.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_Who is Rali?"_

Raven sighed. She was sitting on the edge of the Jump City Boardwalk, dressed in a blue sweat jacket and jeans, a book calmly planted in her lap.

"Will you **please** just **go away**?"

A teenage girl spun in front of her on roller blades before leaning back against the wooden railings that bordered the constantly crashing waves of the beach. Random joggers and giggling gaggles of teenager brushed by in the afternoon sun as the petite citizen's eyes flickered in four crimson places under a pair of shades.

"_I am merely curious, Rachel. I mean nothing bad by the inquiry."_

"Stop calling me that..." Raven hissed, fumbling to keep her spot in the book. "I answer to my Azarathian name."

"_A curious name, that..."_ The teenager cocked her head to the side, the _**red**_ eyes thinning. "_As if Arella hadn't isolated you enough, she distanced your name from that which she tearfully bequeathed you as soon as you came out of her womb. I was there, my daughter. The high and mighty priests of Azarath are too snobbish to admit it—but I pierced the veil of their spell of blinding and witnessed your birth. You know that I have lived for countless eons, have seen civilizations across the cosmos rise and fall—and still, I count the first breathing moment of your life as one of the most treasured memories I've ever had the pleasure to witness."_

"If you really, truly valued my existence and the person that I am, you would never talk to me ever again."

"_Fortunately for you, dearest Rachel, I love you too much to take you up on that offer."_

"Nnnnngh..." Raven clasped the book shut and rubbed her temples, sighing. "... ...I should see Dr. Fate about concocting a new barrier spell..."

"_You should take this 'Rali' with you."_

"Excuse me—What?" Raven frowned through thin eyes.

"_She is your friend, is she not? I cannot tell you hao happy I am that you've made a friend in this world, Raven..."_

"And you will stay **away from her**..." The dark girl's violet eyes briefly flickered with a cold flame. "Do you **understand** me?"

The teenager smiled back. _"Yes. I am very, very happy for you..."_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_You have abandoned the robe and Azarathian silks..."_ A middle-aged man in a business suit spoke across the rattling interior of a subway train. _"... ...not to mention you've stopped levitating around the place. I have to ask—Why the sudden camouflage?"_

"What does it matter...?" Raven, arms crossed, merely frowned and looked into the far corner of the car. "I'm trying to blend in. I was getting enough wyrd looks even _before_ Rali kindly took me aside and said that I needed a new wardrobe."

"_She seems to be a woman of good taste. Though I would draw the line at the body marking you were insistant on getting."_

Raven's eyes twitched. She looked across. "Hao could you possibly know about-"

"_You just told me."_ The _**red**_ eyes curved along with the man's lips.

"Ugh!" Raven ran a hand over her face. "Just perfect. Last person I need judging me on that is _you_..."

"_So I am a person, nao?"_

"... ... ..." Raven took a shuddering breath. "Slip of the tongue."

"_You don't say? Rachel, if I may be so bold, you are going to great lengths to humble yourself amidst these mortals. A woman of your intense power, focus, and magical attunement could very easily make life far more luxurious for yourself—rather than living in the attic of an archaic place of long-abandoned worship. What is it preventing you from becoming a veritable deity before these hapless earthlings?"_

"The reason I have these powers is precisely to deny myself from becoming such a powermongering demoness—as well as to stifle any chance of your physically entering this domain."

"_Alas, another lie imposed upon your wise but altogether nubile mind. The fact of the matter is, Rachel, that the reason you are so powerful in the first place is that you are very much the all-powerful being that the Azarathians have so long denied you of embracing. You are, beyond the shadow of a doubt, the closest thing this planet has to God—aside from a wayward Kryptonian, of course..."_

"You stink at trying to tempt me."

A snorting laugh.

"_Please, Rachel. The devil of folklore tempts. But I? I tell the truth."_

"You are a powermongering spiritual despot bent on universal, cosmic, spiritual domination."

"_And if my crusade was not powered by the truth, then why would I be so inclined as to spearhead it?"_

"... ... ..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_You're rather good at this game..."_ A _**red**_ eyed old man hunched over a chess board, scratching his wrinkly chin as he gazed at the maze of black and white pieces lingering between them. _"...it goes to show that an exercise hundreds of years in the making is best mastered by someone with hundreds of years to spend."_

Raven moved a bishop across the board. Around her, Jump City Park glistened in the February air. People walked their dogs, jogged in pairs, and hovered about various games of checkers, poker, and chess.

"You always sound like you're pitying me—Even if it's under the veil of a compliment. I don't understand hao you can claim to love me and adore me—and yet we both are perfectly aware as to your intentions."

"_Aye, there's the rub."_ The elderly man slowly contemplated with a twiddling finger before finally moving a pawn across the board to block the bishop. _"You, in truth, only know my goal. But my intentions? That's a matter altogether misconstrued by the clerics whose doctrinal job it was to erect within you a complete and utter foil of my ambitions."_

"So then we **are** clear on where we both stand."

"_Are we? Tell me, Rachel—What is my grand scheme for this world and all the rest that blanket the otherwise impenetrable cosmos?"_

"I know that you are a consumer and a ravager of worlds. I know that you have hopped from planet to planet, spreading suffering and chaos—in an insatiable quest to convert all things that live into a edifice to yourself, so that all that remains is but a stone-wrought horror, frozen forever in your image."

"_A very poetic depiction—but an altogether farcical one."_

"Oh. **Do** enlighten me."

"_What I bring to the cosmos, Rachel, is unity—a oneness of spirit, of mind, of body, and understanding. And as is the nature of reformation; it is always resisted with an animalistic instinct for self-preservation. Because it is a universal rule that all things that exist trust in the status-quo, even if the status-quo is what poisons them ten times more than my supernatural touch ever could."_

"You are so full of garbage..."

"_Am I, dear child? Look around you. What do you see?"_

"... ... ... ...I see people enjoying peace, recreation, sunlight—a world without **you**."

"_Indeed. And this tranquility—Do you think it comes without a price?"_

"Nothing is without a price. The City provides shelter for its citizens, its citizens follow the ordinances of the City."

"_So you live in a City-state?"_

"No. Jump City exists within the boundaries of the United States of America. Americans pay taxes and respect for the law; the law and taxes provide order and substance for the Americans. So long as the Sovereignty of the government is not maligned, the citizens are free to pursue wealth and happiness with a liberal freedom unprecedented in human civilization."

"_And what of the price? Who pays the most?"_

"Everyone pays for freedom, in one way or another-"

"_But who **suffers** the most?"_

"... ... ...If you are intending to make me point out the incessant poverty, hunger, and despair of the world—I don't see the point in stating the obvious."

"_The very nature of life is elitist. You say that this city provides shelter for its citizens, and yet there are homeless around every corner. You say that the United States grants an unprecedented freedom, and yet there are millions upon millions of social groups fettered and bound into destitution by the same system that grants others luxury. This world you live in has been ruled by superpowers that, to grant their own minorities the idealistic 'freedom' they so treasure, they hoard resources from the rest of the globe at a horrendous rate of consumption that is tantamount to self-destruction. You may paint society with just about any political, social, governmental, or religious shade of the rainbow, and yet in every incarnation it will remain the same—a selfish and elitist regime, giving power to all or to some or to a few—but always and always favoring the **few**, so that the **many** suffer. It is an amusing irony, and it shows up on every planet I have ever been to; that sentient things end up creating and slaying and recreating and reslaying the same fabled Leviathan of their abstract dreams, in a futile effort of establishing a reliable system of favoritism while trying to covince themselves that it is a certifiable draft for absolute equality. But it is not. It never is. And it never will be."_

"I'm guessing this is the part where you try to convince me that you somehao provide a healthy alternative."

"_Oh. But I do! What you so egotistically call 'my image'-the thing which I transform every civilization I touch—I rather not so egotistically call 'preservation'. You see, Rachel—Every habited planet in this universe, every society separated by the lengths and barriers of the cosmos, every world that struggles and struggles and struggles to make ends meet—is on a path towards destruction. I, of course, mean to suggest more than the obvious nature of entropy, and hao all things that are eventually cease to be what they are. But life—and that is a very subjective and altogether misconstrued term, 'life'-is something that, by its very nature, eradicates itself and the fulfillment of itself. Speaking dichotomously: life is essentially encompassed by death. And life knows this. And life panics. And life erects fortresses and bastions and citadels in an effort to confront this. But every effort, every establishment, every abstract idea turned to concrete has—as you admittedly put it—a cost. And that cost is an endless void, a black hole; for you cannot expend energy without their being a counter-intuitive reaction. And within the churning maelstrom of cause and effect, life has no choice but to be damaging to itself—for the very fact that it recognizes itself as life."_

"And just where do you think you come in? Hao is 'preservation' capable of upsetting this so-called natural encompassing of death over life?"

"_The fallacy of living things in their pursuit of a happiness is that they pursue happiness. The body is instinctually inclined to preserve itself. But the mind—the ego—is schizophrenically weighted to the idea of being weighted, of being worth something, of needing fuel to the fires of self-contemplation, of pleasure, of meaningfulness. It would seem as if living things are not comfortable enough with the very essence of being living things. They don't realize the true beauty of what they simply are, that to be a spark of chemically empowered beings is a miracle unto itself in a universe magnificently devoid of purpose. Nobody alive is willing to settle for being alive. They want **more**. They've sacrificed the hive mind for the hunting mind, and in their incessant need to **consume**, and to consume more—even when they're not done digesting—they rip whatever is good and plentiful about this universe assunder. Everything has a price, Rachel—but nobody with decent sense is willing to stop **spending**."_

"And you come in.. ... ...where, exactly?"

"_Eons ago—billions upon billions of years—so long ago that even **I** have a difficulty remembering with full clarity—I came to the understanding that, for the universe to truly, **truly** exist in tranquility—It would be up to one mind, one body, one soul to make that dream a reality. I have been pursuing that dream ever since—even if it means sacrificing my own image in the eyes of uncountable peoples from uncountable worlds—I have never taken my eyes off this noble goal—That to free the universe from its want and suffering, it must be unified. Once all the pieces come together—once everything and everyone that ever exists is connected—then and only then will life be on even terms with death, for life will have become—through my omnipresence and guidance—just as immutable as death."_

"It boggles my mind... ..."

"_Surely you jest."_

"You really see yourself as a Christ figure, don't you?"

"_Chicken or the egg, my dear. Heh—I've been studying up on this planet's lingo while my eyes and ears have been sharing those of the locals."_

"You don't impress me."

"_Alas, that is currently the second thing in thise universe that—sadly—I am forced to believe with absolute conviction."  
_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_I see you made use of Hyunia."_

"I knew you would bring her up."

"_I'm glad that you finally resorted to employing her. She may be fiery and unpredictable at times—But she is a loyalist, true and true. That is the reason why I picked her to be your guardian."_

"She said that you abused her—That you made her suffer for countless centuries before you finally realized that she held no purpose to you as a mortal and then converted her into a hellion."

"_People imprisoned for their own foolishness will invent all sorts of tall tales to demonize the ones who passed judgment on them."_

"Hao could you do that to a person? What was so bad about her that you had to turn her into an enslaved succubus? Was she another 'me'? In a past life? In another world? Another world that you had to insatiably conquer?"

"_In this universe, with all of its complexities and joys and horrors alike—There is only one Rachel Roth, and she stands before me nao—a fantastic visage beyond a spiritual looking glass. Even with this translucent miasma that I must struggle burningly every moment to look through, I can say with perfect pride and honesty: You are my only daughter. And even if I never father again—I would be more than happy to settle for an only offspring, even if she hates me. No, Rachel—Hyunia is anything like you. She resisted my authority as well, yes, but her rebellion was instinctual, a happenstance of happenstance. She lacked one thing that makes you so much more important..."_

"And what's that?"

"_... ...I never loved her."_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_I know where your mother went."_

"I don't care if you know or not."

"_You realize that you run a hand through your hair everytime that you lie-?"_

"Get whatever it is out of your system so that I can resume meditating."

"_Ah. But of course. The Book of Azar—so desperately important. So divinely protected. I'm amused that you think it will actually act as a failsafe upon the eve of my arrival."_

"I don't know where mother went. I don't think I ever will. What does it matter?"

"_You have a name. Mortuana. Delightfully morbid name, don't you think?"_

"It caters to you, I bet."

"_Hardly. What I mean to emphasize is—To hide from me, your mother went to the deepest, darkest, most abandoned pocket of the universe imaginable. You would think that, in utter desperation to escape my sight, she and the Azarathians would have chosen something a bit brighter."_

"My entire life really amuses you, does it? You think that every anguish I've ever felt, every pain I've ever experienced, every ounce of loneliness and loathing I've been through is some comical farce, some clownish and futile endeavor to evade you and your pathetically self-important quest to cover the cosmos in flame and purgatory-"

"_Rachel, I-"_

"Save it. I made my journey through Blood Junction for a reason. I'm tired of dreading the future, I'm tired of feeling like a walking portal to Hell, and I'm tired of **you**. I want you to leave me alone—and never talk to me again. I mean it!"

"_You will need me, quite soon. Sooner than you think. Just as your friend Rali needs you-"_

"I said **leave!"**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

A cold, bitter night in March...

Raven sat on a rooftop, hugging her knees to her chest.

Her jeans and sweatjacket were in tatters. A pale sheen—like silver—covered her face, reflecting the starlight off a soulless complexion of utter, utter horror.

As the minutes wore on into hours, and the dawn took forever to rise, a shadowy stranger wandered up from an apartment fire escape and gazed up towards her. Keeping a respectable distance, the figure leaned on the railing as four _**red**_ eyes shimmered from the brow.

"_I saw what you did, Rachel. I know you told me to go away, but that doesn't keep me from seeing into this world... ...From watching over you."_

"... ... ..."

"_Karma is a disastorous thing to believe in. But when you want its loyalty, in the key places, it doesn't fail you. Especially when you are guiding the hands of fate."_

"... ... ... ..."

"_What you did to those men—Those animalistic urban warmongerers—You did without remorse, without hesitation, and without looking back. It was pure, impulsive, and uncompromised rage. I bet you never thought that **rage** would be of assistance to you and the wielding of karma, did you? That's the remarkable thing about **rage**, my dear—It is nothing short but brutal, unadulterated honesty. It is the most proactive force in the universe. The reason why 'rage' is so often negatively connotated is that far too often and far too disastorously it is mistaken for sadism; sadism simply being cowardice in the hands of a selfish god—And that is something you are not, Rachel."_

"I h-hate you."

"_I know you do, darling. But hate is nothing more than the shadow of love—be it someone else's love, or your own. And when the time comes that you're ready for a transformation, my eyes and ears are only a spell away."_

The figure's four _**red**_ eyes disappeared, and she trudged sleepily and confusedly back towards her apartment, leaving a lone, helpless, and hapless Raven in the shadow of her own tears.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_A **vigilante**?"_

"I prefer the term 'superhero'."

"_You've joined a ragtag and nubile militia of **vigilantes**?"_

"Nnngh... ...See? And then I wonder why I even bother humoring you with _any_ information about myself whatsoever. Why can't you just go away permanently...?"

"_I have always been a firm believer and proud admirer of your wisdom, Rachel. But this latest decision of yours—far be it from me to judge-"_

"Heh."

"_-but exactly what do you think you are going to accomplish with this motley crew?"_

"Exactly what I couldn't accomplish on my own—especially with _**you**_ showing up at godawful times of the day or night to hound me when I was alone."

"_'Hound' is such a trite word..."_

"I need clarity, focus of mind, and a good conscience. All this time I've denied myself the full utilization of my talents—for fear that I might lose control. And the fact of the matter is—I _**did**_ lose control. But, not again. I need to practice, hone in on my powers, learn to use them only for helping and healing people—And with this team, I very well may accomplish that."

"_And your manner of 'helping and healing' people involves running alongside these new companions of yours as you find an ambitious yet morally unorthodox **minority** of people at which to hurl violent objects...?"_

"That's a very pathetic way to paint the situation."

"_What better way is there? I'm a demigod, not an artist. I can't succumb to the poetic absurdity of this lifestyle you've suddenly chosen; to what extent is making a few criminals suffer going to help many more people benefit?"_

"It's not a matter of suffering. It's a matter of justice."

"_Justice means being accountable for your actions. When this vigilante group-"_

"**Superhero**."

"_When this group assaults a targeted minority—there will be consequences. And I hope you realize that you cannot operate entirely on the offensive. There will be a backlash to your audacious antics. Either you will make enemies out of an insurmountable number of people, or you will—by the very nature of your metaphysical proactiveness—become the morally unorthodox archetype that you initially set out to undermine. And on top of that, you have to also consider the checks and balances-"_

"Meaning... ...?"

"_What you may call crime, another may call a way of buying bread. Do you think the world is so black and white that misanthropes and innocents can be visibly separated like sheep from the goats? If that was the case, the battle would have ended long ago, and there would be one victor, so that the universe we live in would be either universally 'good' or universally 'evil'. But that is not the case, is it? No, life is a gray homogenous mixture of things that give blood and things that take it. To resist that is to resist nature—to do what you are doing nao."_

"So... ... ...It's almost like going on a grand, impossibly epic crusade to unifying all things that are under a one-ness of being?"

"_... ... ..."_

"What bothers me to no end, father, is people like me—people with great power, no matter hao hellishly inherited—who have the ability to affect the world positively, who stand upon the precipice of benevolence, and yet falter and step back from the cliff, overcome with fear, and cowardly constructing all manners of complicated excuses to legitimize their ultimate inaction. You told me that _**rage**_ is unfiltered honesty—Well, I'd rather believe in an unblemished righteousness, something that involves heroism—and heroism is defined by its sacrifice more than its impulse. But sacrifice is something I do not expect you to understand, though you'll likely concoct some excuse to claim that—somehao, in your blacker than black heart—you could comprehend it."

"_This is about the men you hurt, isn't it-?"_

"Father..."

"_You feel guilty for what you did to them—even though it was in direct retribution for what they did to-"_

"Father, when will you realize, I am not like you? I never will be?"

"_I am glad that you are not like me."_

"But I thought you were on a crusade to make the entire universe in your image."

"_Several civilizations have called me 'Terrible' because they cannot fathom losing their individuality to succumb to my omnipotence. I conquer them without hesitation—but also without feeling. I have simply gone through the motion far too many times. It is like an act of nature, neutral, unemotional. But you, my daughter? I would never put you through that. The fact that you are different from me—and that you will remain different—is what empowers me, and what makes me love you all the more."_

"If you truly loved me, father—**Truly** loved me—you would never, ever make me suffer a fate as living in a world that you've conquered, but yet not capable of being numb to it."

"_Then perhaps that is where this little 'vigilante' phase of yours is stemming from."_

"... ... ...?"

"_All you're really doing is exercising your powers against a harsh world that you think would never understand you. You're too afraid to feel everything that this planet has to offer; the clerics of Azarath robbed you of that. And nao you must bring order to a world wrought with suffering and crime—as if it will be as simple a task as the solitary accomplishments you made in bringing order to your soul self? Dearest Rachel, I believe the two of us are far more similar than either of us are brave enough to admit. I **can make** this world orderly and devoid of crime and suffering, my child. But only if you would let me-"_

"Good bye father."

"_Hrmm... ...Ending the conversation before tea. You're quite becoming for a vigilante-"_

"**Superhero—**_Snkkt-Dear Azar—_I'm off to meditate."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_If I may be so bold, you are taking more daily walks since you've joined these youthful crime fighters than beforehand."_

"I've got a lot on my mind. So if you would please let me be-"

"_And ruin a perfectly beautiful April afternoon?"_

"What would you know—_or care—_about terrestrial weather?"

"_A lot more than you would think."_

"Oh really...?"

"_Yes."_

"All of this through four red eyes and the occasional pair of ears?"

"_It's more than that, Rachel. My senses gain more than just the opaque world around these bodies of people. I garner the heat of the beating heart, the ache of an empty stomach, the jolt in adrenaline at the sight of a loved one or a nemesis..."_

"It never ceases to amaze me that I have to be so unemotional in order to stave off the dark arrival of someone so-"

"_Expressive?"_

"Flamboyant."

"_I would laugh at that, if only it wouldn't explode the star system where I am currently located with the force of twenty billion exploding suns."_

"Don't brag."

"_Frankly, Rachel—Do you still buy into that silly myth that the priests of Azarath taught you?"_

"The priests of Azarath—and my mother, for that matter—recognized that the demon's blood inside of me made my body an instant anchor for you to enter this world. And rather than following their first and wise impulse of _killing me_ while I was inside _mother's womb_, they gracefully allowed me to come into existence—If for nothing else than to see if the door could swing both ways, as Dr. Fate put it. It's taken me a while to realize that—to fully grasp it. It's been an arduous journey, but one that I'm proud of. Any over-indulgence into my feelings—my _passion—_would mean widening the door for you to break throught. And I cannot allow that, I cannot allow myself to lose control—for your sake."

"_Hao has that been going for you, then?"_

"... ... ... ..."

"_Hao many tears have you shed, angry shouts have you uttered, sly but visible smirks have you produced since you left Azarath and began walking this oh-so-'vulnerable' planetoid?"_

"... ... ... ..."

"_If it was all a matter of emotions, dear Rachel, I would have entered your precious world a long, long time ago. But such is not the case. No, Rachel, I haven't yet entered this world because you were not ready for me to."_

"What in Azar's name is that supposed to mean?"

"_You must think you are a terribly unlucky person... ...To have a father like me."_

"Do I wear a pink chakra stone?"

"_Tell me, Raven, if you weren't yourself—Who would you be?"_

"I don't understand."

"_Alright, allow me to be poetic—Ahem: If you weren't a stoic magically attuned half-demoness daughter of an all powerful planet destroyer god—Then what would you be? What would you write to your friend Rali about?"_

"Leave her out of this."

"_My apologies."_

"Whatever I would be—it would be instantly better than this, assuming it was _different_ than this."

"_This-"_

"My life."

"_Quite an extraordinary life, at that, Rachel. Have you ever thought to consider that?"_

"Oh, what—I'm supposed to be thankful to you nao? You're pathetic-"

"_Am I? Do you want to know what it truly means to be pathetic?"_

"I could hardly care."

"_Could you? Take, for example, this body that I'm possessing as we speak."_

"... ... ...What about him? I figured he'll go harmlessly back to normal once you hop out—just as always. Otherwise, I would have exorcised your pathetic smelly influence out of him in a blink."

"_Cute. The fact of the matter is—This is not my first time being this gentleman. I've been him on multiple occasions, in multiple places, over multiple years, through multiple failed relationships and two botched marriages, in a lackluster career, in a half-hearted attempt to attend a learning institution, under the guise of peer pressure and teenage awkwardness, in a childhood vexxed by warring parents, under a roof half as dusty as the books lining the shelves therein. I've been him many times—as I have been other people many times, years before you left Azarath and so much as walked upon this Earth—just sitting in their skin, letting them go about their business, watching and listening as the days and months and years ticked into monotony around them—Such ordinary lives."_

"Why are you telling me this... ...?"

"_This moment, Rachel? This moment in time, this tranquil bench in the park, this oozing blink in rudimentary moment—He has lived this over and over again, in the same place, with the same breath, falsely believing long before his hair turned gray that it was only what he saw that lasted forever, that people around him were forever young, that the moment repeated itself just for him and him alone. You see, he forced himself to fixate on this routine, and to belive in it—so that he became a stone edifice erected in the middle of it, a person of no consequence, unaccomplished and forever unsung in the annals of mortal men—for all that they will ever be worth. And the saddest thing—the most diabolical truth of all—is that this man, in all of his monotony, is one of many—many ordinary lives, unexciting, uninspiring, unabashedly pathetic."_

"I don't see the point in all of this pointlessness."

"_Rachel. You may consider yourself vexxed, cursed, doomed—even. I know more than enough about the manner in which you negatively perceive your life and my impact on it that it's useless for you to reiterate anything, even when I am done expressing myself here. But, if you could live for simply a **day** in the bodies that I have inhabited, in the souls that I have come into contact with—Then perhaps you would know true Hell—a Hell without flames. It is one thing to be inconsequential. But to be inconsequential and **not even know it—**until, perhaps, the last few fitful blinks before death swallows you up.. ... ...well... ... ...I am infamous for many things, but even I cannot conceive of a terror worse than that. To be blind all of your life, and not being able to see—until the last breaths before the shadow encompasses everything you've always had to see with since the beginning."_

"Feeling existential, father? That's rather audacious, even for you."

"_You are a precious and beautiful thing, Rachel. And your life has meaning—It has purpose. I do not mean to credit myself entirely with that purpose, but know this: for all the things you have to complain about, there is so much more to have joy for. There are people in this world who would give up their lives to have **meaning—**the sort of meaning that you manifest in between breaths, simply by **being** what you **are**. One day, I intend to help all of these people with unification. And though I do not entirely condone this **vigilante** tirade of yourse, I can certainly see that you—in your own way—wish also to give people a chance to find meaning."_

"Don't **ever** compare my ambitions to yours. Not even in **jest**."

"_Again—I am not the fabled devil of your world, Raven. I never jest."_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Raven leaned against the wall of a building across the street from the hospital. She gazed up at a lone window, lit from the inside by a flickering television set. The girl exhaled and hugged herself demurely under the constant shadow of gray night overhead.

"_You always come back here... ..."_ A police officer stood next to her, his arms also folded as he leaned against the building. Four _**red**_ eyes gazed towards the girl. _"... ...I know that she's your friend. But you seem to have plenty of those back at that bunker."_

"Rali is more than a friend. She's the reason I stayed in this time and place.. ..." Raven murmured. "... ...instead of going back to my soul-self for a final sabbatical and ending up here several decades later."

"_I remember the words that Dr. Fate told you. Perhaps there were more than just her when he made his foreshadowing?"_

Raven frowned, turned from the hospital and shuffled down the street. "I don't need any more friends..."

The officer marched gently alongside her, matching her pace. _"Oh, I beg to differ..."_

"Why... ...?" She glared over, frowning. "So that you can just snuff their souls out from under me with your 'unification' nonsense?"

"_Inevitability is inevitability, my dear. But both you and I know that time is transient when your soul-self is involved. I think there's more than just one person anchoring you to this time. Why else would you remain with this group in spite of its setbacks?"_

Raven took a deep breath. "What happened on Fifth Street was a fluke. I'm sure that Cyborg will talk some sense into Mr. Kobayashi and-"

"_And then what? What has this team you've joined accomplished that truly, logically legitimizes your allegiance to them? Less than a month of being a 'superhero' and the only thing you seem to be **superb** at is finding more and more colorful ways to defend your image."_

"What we're here in Jump City to do, and what we stand for, means too much to just give up in a single fit of hopelessness. There are people in this City who deserve saving, who can benefit from our collectiveness, whom we can't abandoned because of despondence."

"_Wow, you've certainly become a lot more self-importance since the last time we talked. I think I rather like that."_

"I do not look for your pride."

"_Of course not. If you did, you might consider removing that insufferable tattoo."_

"Nnngh...I owe it to Rali to show I'm a better person than the demonlike creature whose lap she fell into. And I owe Cyborg-"

"_What? What could you possibly owe that temperamental, overtly ideological chaosmongerer?"_

"... ... ...Hope." Raven squinted back at him. "And it's the one thing that makes me strong. Strong enough to talk with the facade of you, and not want to hate myself for it—Because some day, I have _faith—_that I will finally overcome you."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 24, 2004)**

"_And what of it nao, Rachel?"_ His voice echoed out of the homeless man's body as the rays of the Dawn Sun rose over Jump City Park. _"Is this an example of hope failing you? Or perhaps your friends?"_

"... ... ... ..." Raven clasped her hands together in her lap, staring affixedly towards the cobblestone path beneath the bench. Her leotard and robe were still singed in random spots, her skin bruised and stained. "... ... ...I knew it would all collapse...but... ...b-but not like that. All that anger... ...all of that frustration. Cyborg's words... ...Koriand'r's pain... ... ...Stargirl's indignation..."

"_Rachel... ..."_

The girl took a deep breath, her face wrenching as if giving birth to a horrible thing—three hundred years in the making.

"_Rachel... ... ...You came here, to this park, for a reason... ...Didn't you?"_

"... ... ..."

"_After all these weeks, this is the first time you've sought me out. I wonder... ...should I also have hope?"_

A tear ran daon Raven's cheek. Her lips quivered as her vision became glassy. "I-I don't know wh-what to do anymore... ...Rali c-couldn't understand. M-Mother is g-gone... ...and..."

"_And I am here. In spirit—Though I could be in more... ..."_

"... ... ... ..." Raven sniffed. She wiped her sleeve, took a deep breath—then morphed as she frowned in a resolutely familiar flame. "If you pardon the pun—Not a snowflake's chance in **Hell**."

"_Hrmmm... ... ...You wound me, Raven. After all, there is one reason and one reason alone that I have not consumed this world... ...Not yet..."_

"Oh... ...?"

"_I could never do something that you would hate me for..."_ A gentle hand brushed a few strands of hair away from her bruised neck. _"Eternity is a long thing, and Earth is but a drop in it. I could never claim my daughter's home... ...if my daughter did not love me back..."_

"... ... ..." Raven stared at him. "... ...You ask the impossible of me."

"_I ask nothing, but only expect everything."_ The homeless man's lips smiled. Four _**red**_ spots shimmered above. _"You may not believe it nao, but there may yet come a time when all of the things I uphold—and all the things that you so currently abhor—will suddenly and with intense clarity become dear to you. That will be a world where there will be only one thing left to save it, one form of salvation to be utilized, one silver bullet to drown the Leviathan once and for all—and one gorgeous daughter... ...against all odds... ...who would love, and perhaps even forgive, her father..."_

Raven took a deep breath. "As horrible as things are... ...As far as I've sunken in my endeavors... ...I don't see hao that could ever happen."

"_Don't you... ...?"_ The homeless man stood up, his face like a shadowed stone against the rising Sun. "_It is all a matter of time, dearest Rachel. My love for you is eternal. We'll both venture to see, I imagine, if your disgust for me is nearly as timeless..."_

Just then, Raven's communicator chimed—startling her. She grasped the thing in two trembling hands. "What... ...Wh-What's going on..." She murmured deliriously.

"_Time, Rachel.. ..."_ The figure marched off into the gray-green obscurity of the park's horizon. "_... ...simply time."_

Raven opened the device up with a Star Trek sound. "Ahem... ...Raven here. What's going on-"

"_Oh thank god! Finally!"_ Beast Boy's voice. _"I've been trying to get you for hours!"_

"I-I'm sorry... ..I was...I was preoccupied-"

"_I just contacted Robin. He's heading for Phaser Labs. We had to turn the laboratory into a makeshift ICU—and already Hunnicutt's on his way, but Dr. Ray thinks it may already be too late... ...He thinks—Ah jeez, why does everything have to be all Michael Bay overnight!"_

"I-I don't understand. Beast Boy, what's going on?"

"_It's Victor, Raven. He's dying."_


	19. Ezekiel Syndrome

"Are you certain that you do not require anything, Miss Kobayashi?"

"I'm quite fine, Adams..." Madeline breathed, sauntering into a room with her cane. She craned her neck back to cast her voice gently towards the protective frame of the paid Kobayashi Corp bodyguard. "Thanks to everyone—I am not only very much alive—but in desperate need of some peace and quiet."

"Very well, ma'am. If you need anything, just page us..."

"I will keep that in mind. You are dismissed."

The man walked backwards and shut the double doors behind them. He stood outside, his voice and heartbeat joining three other guards acting as a collective sentry in the halls of Placcid Towers.

Madeline took a deep breath, drowned finally in a curtain of silence. The room had a familiar, rudimentary smell to it: that of plastic and wires and fuses and several rubber-reinforced tools. For this was her laboratory, her hovel of hobbies, her temple of scientific experimentation. Day after day, cast alone in the dark slate of her imagination, she navigated a forest of shadows, producing by hand the physical manifestation of many a mental blueprint that had ever festered in her regal mind. This was a sanctuary for her and her alone, and the fruits of her efforts there hung on many a rack and shelf within open reach of her graceful hands. Her father rarely ventured here, trusting his daughter to her own scientific prowess. Her bodyguards and servants were never allowed in, for fear they might inadvertently put into disarray the working array that the blind girl depended on. Only one person had Madeline allowed to spend some quality in there, beside herself.

She hadn't had the opportunity to thank him.

An exhale, and she drifted forward. She gripped the cane up, its knob raised off the floor, for she knew this place more than her very own bedroom. Counting the paces, she reached a hand to the left in time to grip the tabletop of a workstation. She felt along its surface, her fingers touching every tool and device she had left since the last time she had spent time there. Several metal objects brushed beneath her fingers—several projects, half of them finished, another half of them begging to be improved. Madeline would begin one task, get either fed up or frustrated with the inaneness of the idea, and immediately work on the next. Only seldomly did she construct something that she felt proud of, and those things she latched onto with the clinging admiration of a young child.

Take, for example, the pair of triangular disc arrangements that rattled at the slightest hint of her touch at the far end of the table. She cupped her hand over one of the three-fold metal orbs, their surfaces shining with a pristine glow that she could only dream of, could only reach halfway with the cold kiss of a naked touch.

For a brief moment, Madeline lingered there—as if hesitating to do the simplest of things. Soon, she gave in—twirling so as to yank her cane towards the opposite end of the room. Instinctually, she hooked the end of it over the armrest of a chair, and pulled the invisible thing towards her. She braced the thing in reverse, slowly sat daon, and slid towards the edge of the table. Resting the cane against the table's side, she slid both hands across the benchtop until she gripped both pairs of triangularly arranged spears in separte palms. She turned them open, flared open glove attachments, and slid her hands in—one at a time. Soon, she had the triad of spheres tightly clasping the top of each of her wrists.

Once they were geared, she felt with her fingers for a pair of thick electrical bundles running from the base of both sensors. She fished to their source—a pair of thick headphones. She unhooked the listening device from where it hung and slid the thing over her ears. Her fingers then rose to the top of the heapiece and found a series of freshly welded knobs and switches. She turned a knob or two, blindly presetting the frequency, and then brace herself as she flipped two center switches at the top of the headpiece.

_**(VROMMMMMMMMmmmmmm...)**_

She winced slightly... ...weathered the flood of auditory information flooding into her skull... ... ...and breathed easier as she reached to each opposite wrist and flicked a knob above each triad of metal spheres. _Vriiiii-**iiiiiiiii**_. The things hummed to life, vibrating like massage balls atop her arms.

A deep breath, and Madeline leaned back in the chair and rose both hands like a priestess, flexxing them out meditatively as she caught every vibration in the room—pierced through them—and expanded to the airwaves beyond the obelisk of Placcid Towers. With her own patented technology, Madeline dove into a sea of voices, sounds, and gibberish—the ever living and ever pulsing heartbeat of Jump City.

_**(VROMMMMMM) (MMMM) (MMMM) ("-ontinuing to investigate Johnson Shopping Cen-") ("-nkly don't care if you bought it new or us-") ("-ittle more to the right, nao back up, you're doi-") ("-uble Whopper with cheese and bac-") ("-ear to God, the only good thing about this year was when Benoit and Eddie Guerroro stood at the en-") ("-king dead! I mean i-") ("-veral hours ago, in the meantime Kensuke Kobayashi refused to comment-") ("-ryday is the same shit, and she never washes beforeha-") ("-en feet from i-") ("-ocating me with this incess-") ("-ick me up in about an ho-") ("-bels from the North, since the ousting of the Talib-") ("-amente siete dias, pero no s-") ("-ld you a million goddam times to not leave it in rever-")("-ll be one dollar and forty cents in cha-") (MMM) (MMM) (MMM)**_

Madeline's brow creased. She concentrated, wincingly slight, as she swam deeper... ...deeper... ... ...in the noise...

_**(MMMM) (MMMM) (MMMM) ("-ake it like a Polaroid pictu—") ("-ustries stocks have dropped at an alar-") ("-tch where you're going you son o-") ("-at you get me through this day, Lord, bef-") ("-o damn hot for this time of yea-") ("-en almost twenty years to the day since Coast Cit-") ("-encils daon and heads u-") ("-pt oozing out from then o-") ("-n you believe he loves Depeche Mo-") (-ill no sign of the Royal Family of Marko—") ("-ummon a Succubus? Are you daf-") ("-ust washed this yester-") ("-ss me that screwdriver, will y-") ("-perts think it could have been a paid mercenary from Ka-") ("-n't get through Downtown because of this mes-") ("-ld the elevator, plea-") ("-re you to doubt El Dan-") ("-rder Halo 2 and be guarant-") ("-atest single by Franz Fer-") ("-u mean you didn't file for ta-") ("-ke Tekken 2 on Blee-") ("-ther who art in Heav-") (MMMMM) (MMMM) (MMM-WRIIiiiii)**_

The noise cut out as Madeline yanked the headpiece off her skull. Her face was a white sheen as she gasped into the naked air before her, helpless to chase the void that she had _felt_ with fingers only possessed by her.

"Victor... ..." She stammered, alone with the echoes of her breath. "... ... ...wh-what happened to your heartbeat...?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(****April 24, 2004****)**

Robin had managed to replace his cape and eyemask. Sporting the fresh new bits of garb, he stood in the corner of the dust-laden office, his arms folded, gazing out the scant gaps of windowlight afforded him by a dangling fog of splintery, wooden blinds. The Boy Wonder was mute, stone-still, as he listened—helplessly listened—to the booming voice that anchored the Jump City Police Department to the center of the planet, but promised to bury it all the more.

"-and in speaking of Georgeton, I wouldn't be so quick to count on his support this time through. It's one thing to incidentally dump a giant alien sepository into the Bay; it's another to drag Armageddon through the heart of Downtown. You've all gotten on **his** bad side this time—not mine. I mean it, kid. I'm glad—_yes—_glad that this maniac was taken daon, one way or another. But for once you've all done something so insanely crazy and batshit loco that it's hopped directly over my head and soiled the mayor's lap. Never mind the fact that nobody but the crazy ass lunatic killer actually _died—_but you made one huge ass scar across Georgeton's precious city. And already, he's set up an impromptu meeting with the top officials of Jump City. As mad as I am—_and who am I kidding, I'm always pissed—_it's another thing altogether to make Mayor Georgeton mad. I'm telling you, it doesn't happen much. And yet, speaking from experience—he's miffed, the mother of all miffed. But Hell—I knew this day would come. I screamed and shouted at Mr. Stone because, all this time, I've cared. Yeah! Believe it or not, I cared. Because as moronic as this whole superheroic _experiment_ has been from the beginning, I didn't want you kids being so utterly _schooled_ by the very people you thought you were protecting! I made it my job to put you straight! And what happens? In spite of all my efforts, _what_ happens? In one week alone, you wage war across both a shopping mall and the neck of one of our city's biggest corporate bigshots!"

Cid smirked from where she leaned against a coatwrack, her arms folded similarly to Robin's. "To be fair, Commish. They _did_ Kobayashi a favor by keeping that neck of his in tact. I saw it. I was there. Crazy ass work. I'm not all that big of a fan over what happened immediately after, but-"

Kneehouse shoved a thick finger across the room. "Stuff it, Snow White. I'll let you know when it's your time to bitch."

"Heh, sure thing, Commish," Cid glanced over at Decker. Decker grunted, puffing on his cigarette.

Kneehouse frowned once more Robin's way. She throated:

"Nobody knows what the City Council is deciding over this situation _but _the City Council. But, if I were you, kid, I'd start forming an exit strategy. It's the safest, smartest, and most adult thing to do in this situation. Pack your bags, wait by the phone—and at the soonest and I mean _soonest _you hear the verdict of Georgeton and his fellow big whigs, you can hop out of this City with the greatest of ease—if it comes daon to that—and you'd be prepared to make the process one hundred percent less explosive than the method by which you all hopped in, and by 'one-hundred-percent-less-explosive' I mean _**not explosive**_. _**At all."**_

Decker held the cigarette in two hands and muttered: "It stands to reason that—even if the Council happens to vote them out of the superhero 'experiment'—Victor's team should hang out in Jump City to offer a hand in any investigation on this Quackaroo nut-"

"_'Katarou'_" Cid chirped.

"Whatever. The fact of the matter is, this psychopath had his hands on some pretty nasty Terminator shit. I'm pretty sure he didn't lug all of that crap from clear across God-knows-where all by his lonesome. He likely had help, and whoever helped him could very likely be holed up in this pretty City of ours."

"Don't try dragging this into some sort of bizarre conspiracy, detective..." Commissioner Kneehouse frowned from the groove in her desk. "... ...you sound almost as bad as _Vic_ and his Underworld delusions."

"What I'm _trying_ to suggest... ..." Decker rumbled from beneath his be-stubbled throat. "... ...is that while we have our toes in the rubble and our backs in the rubble, we not be so quick to throw away the only six people in this City who have proven themselves of so much as _holding back_ that tin-canned, plasma pissing homicidal sonuvabitch. I love Jump City's finest. I really do. But I know for a fact that even if I could somehao holster every damn bit of lead sealed off in our weapons locker, I wouldn't be able to make so much as a dent in that mother f-"

"Right. You wouldn't have engaged the suspect to begin with! Or at least I would hope not, Decker. Not when knowing that provoking this 'Katarou' could have rendered the streets that Jump City's finest patrols to _Swiss Cheese!"_ Kneehouse seethed.

"Hrmmmph..." Decker puffed on the cigarette and grunted out the side of his mouth towards Robin. "I **tried."**

"... ... ... ..." Robin stood silently.

Kneehouse frowned at him. "Well, caped crusader? Are you going to just stand there and pretend that all of this never happened?"

"I know exactly what has happened, Commissioner." He then raised a gloved finger without looking. "And I **have** heard every word you've said—"

"_Have you even heard a single wor-?"_ Kneehouse stopped halfway, blinking at him.

Robin continued: "The team will stay out of the City's hair. That means yours as well, Kneehouse." He turned, icily pivoting towards her. "But we will, nonetheless, be conducting an investigation as to the nature of Katarou's access to advanced technology, the possibility of his having accomplices, and the potential motivations for his actions last night."

Kneehouse frowned. "And what will these 'investigations' cost the City nao? An apartment complex? Another shopping plaza? You know—just from the damage to the L-Track alone, the entire Transit Authority has been screaming at us around the clock-"

"They have been. My ears are still ringing-"

"Cid-"

"Commish, I'm on your side! Jeez..."

"I know that you have your obligations to your City, Commissioner..." Robin spoke calmly. "Please understand that I have obligations to the truth, and to justice. And to some people those may sound like mere words. But to the likes of you and me, they mean something to strive for—to not leave hanging. The team owes it to this City to get to the bottom of what exactly took place yesterday, to what inspired Katarou to attack us so randomly. After all of the damage we caused, it's only fair that we clean up after ourselves-"

"And just what the Hell do you mean by random?" Kneehouse's eyes narrowed. "That man's your _nemesis_; didn't he say so?"

"I've had Harley Quinn call me a 'sexual predator' once..." Robin droned. "By the twentieth consecutive time in two years that the woman tried pulverising my skull with a spring-propelled boxing glove, I realized it was pointless to take her words too seriously." He stepped across the room and stood before Kneehouse. "The world is a complicated and mixed up place, Commissioner. But the day that we stop believing that there's a clear difference between good and evil in this line of work is the day when both of us call it quits. Katarou's attack was random, and it had an ulterior motive. I will be setting upon the task of figuring out just what that motive was. That was a declaration... ... not a _request_."

Kneehouse stared at him.

His eyemask stared coldly back.

Finally, she uttered: "You're not like Victor Stone at all. He blabbers on too much about what he believes in. But you—You've _long_ fallen victim to your own self-righteous delirium, haven't you?"

"I think that's about the nicest thing you've ever said about anyone on my team, Commissioner." Robin half-waved and made for the window, opening it. "I'll let you know hao our investigation goes. Hopefully I'll have some solid evidence before the newspaper concocts something that people will believe in faster."

"But the moment you so much as cause another building to collapse-" Kneehouse pointed harshly-

"You can use my handcuffs if you want. They're harder to get out of than your department's anyways."

"He's rather cute when he's on the ball." Cid smirked.

"And give Victor a message... ..." Kneehouse sighed. "The next day his ego burns him so much that he refuses to look me in the face after pulling another one of his stunts, I'll have him by his antennae!"

"That might be difficult to relay to him..." Robin climbed out the window and fired a grappling hook. _Pow!_

"Dammitall—_And just why's that?"_

"I got a message from Phaser Labs before I even came here." Robin swung off, and over his rippling cape there dripped the emotionless revelation: "Cyborg's near death."

Decker suddenly froze, hands in his pockets, unmoving. His cigarette burned out in his lips.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

When Raven arrived at the Phaser Labs infirmary—iciliy sliding out the violet vortex of her swirling soul self—the first thing she saw was half a face. Where there was once a metal dome of silver and blue, there was nao a jagged silicon-and-ash honeycomb of charred ciruitry and fuses. Besides the cranial sinkhole was a closed eye, a human eye, and that's when she knew-

"_Victor... ..."_ The sorceress murmured.

A gulp, and she closed the vortex behind her. The light receded to show the jittery form of Dr. Ray, scrambling over various bleeping electronic equipment shoved up around Victor's lab bed like an Intensive Care Stonehenge. The blocky-square of Doctor Hunnicutt's body was leaning over Cyborg, shining a light into the metal fissures formed by what could be nothing less than an explosion from inside the half-android teen. Three shadows slumped in a line along the far walls, and the only reason they stirred from their frozen stance of uncertainty was because Raven had just arrived.

"Raven...!" An unmasked Stargirl started.

"I... ...I'm sorry..." Raven shyly managed under a croaking sound, her violet eyes glued on the half-corpse lying before them. "I had no idea. If I had known sooner, I would have come and... ..."

"Shhh...It's okay..." Courtney rushed over and hugged her.

"... ..." Raven wasn't sure what she was confused over more—That Courtney had unabashedly touched her, or that Raven wasn't making any attempt to shove her away. She merely kept looking, kept staring, kept falling thousands of miles per second into the hole in Cyborg's skull. "Hao bad is he... ...?"

"Badder than the Hindenburg mixed with the N-Gage launch..." Beast Boy grumbled, his hands in his jumpsuit's pockets as he stood beside the two girls, gazing sickly over at the scene. The scrapes, bruises, and smudges of an overnight battle still hung on his lithe green form. "They're saying that the only reason Vic hasn't completely melted from the inside out is that his central core has overloaded. Beats the heck outta me hao a half-robot's central core _overloading_ can be a **GOOD** thing, but I'm not the expert on doohickeryism. Dr. Ray's been running tests all morning. As for Hunnicutt; the Doc got here about two hours ago. I've never seen him in the same room for so long without a smile. I don't take that as a good sign."

"Just what in Azar's name happened... ..?" Raven murmured.

"He had an internal circuitry overload of epic proportions when trying to hack into a computer device that...that... ...ugh..." Courtney rubbed her forehead and looked away from the sight. "You tell her, Garfield. You were there..."

"'Hacked'... ...?" Raven squinted and then glanced blankly at Beast Boy. "I don't understand. What was he up to?"

"After our fun little _meeting_ earlier..." Beast Boy momentarily rolled his eyes. "... ...Victor got it through his genius skull to inspect the source of a transmission of sorts that he picked up on when Katarou was whooping our pimply butts."

"Transmission-?"

"He caught some... ...I dunno... ... ...Electronic-carrier-signal-blutooth-of-death-thingy being broadcasted towards Katarou's murder-suit as soon as the baldheaded party crasher ran from the scene of Kobayashi's near assassination. I didn't know any more about the crap than he pretended to—And besides, you saw what kind of a mood he was in. I just tagged along and nodded my head and pretended to be useful. Well, before I knew it, he got his skull wired to this computer we traced the signal back to—And his head frickin' exploded like a popcorn bag. And we're not just talking about _anybody's_ head. This is Vic's dome! That stuff is some seriously hard metal! I have no idea what in God's sexy cheerleader crawling earth could do that sort of stuff to his skin!"

"You mean to say that Victor attached his own personal circuitry to a rogue computer connected to Katarou's rampage... ..." Raven squinted. "-And you didn't do anything to stop him?"

"Hey! I **tried**! **Okay?.!.?**" Garfield barked-

"_Shhhh!"_ Courtney hissed, glancing worrisomely over her shoulder at the two doctors at work.

Garfield covered his face, sighed, and folded his arms as he grumbled towards the floor. "I tried to talk him out of it. I knew it was a stupid thing to do. Brave? Perhaps. A way to figure out if Katarou had any help? _Possibly_. Dumb and wreckless? **Absolutely**. But this is Victor we're talking about, and nothing was gonna stop him—And I-I sorta felt he knew what he was doing. And besides, after all we've been through that night, I thought that if I spoke up or disrupted him, he'd think that I was being... ...I mean, he'd thing that I was trying to... .. ... ...Nnngh..." He ran a hand over his face. "This is all my fault. I mean, look at Victor. Just _look_ at him..."

"No, Garfield... ...It's not any of our faults... ..." Courtney clasped her hands. "Somebody did this to him. They sprung a trap. They _meant_ for this to happen. They _prepared_ for it. What else could it be but another horrible plot by whoever's polluting this City to try and get rid of its only superheroes in... ...in f-forever?"

"Just hao did he get back here... ...?" Raven asked.

"Hmm? Oh..." Beast Boy bit his lip. "I turned into a pteranadon and carried him all the way here."

"A terro-what?"

"Giant flying reptile from the order Pterosauria..." Beast Boy grumbled. "Go look it up on Wikipedia."

"I'm sorry.. ..." Raven sighed, shaking her head. "I'm just a bit overwhelmed, is all. This is a lot to take in-"

"_What's Wikipedia?"_

Beast Boy replied to Raven: "You're not alone. As soon as I dropped Cyborg down into the waiting arms of Phaser technicians, you should have seen the look on Dr. Ray's face. You'd think he was passing kidney stones out his ears. We're in some serious, deep sushi here..."

"Just hao could a computer connection—No matter what sort of virus or infection could be used—Somehao cause Cyborg's head to _**explode**_?" Raven blinked.

"And yet there he lies, neither victor nor conqueror..."

"Garfield..." Courtney sighed.

"What? Just look at him! If I hadn't tried harder, we could all be having coffee right nao, hating him for being a total healthy ass earlier-!"

"Just knock it off, okay!" Courtney growled, her voice forming a startling echo in the room. She caught up with her own adrenaline, took a calming breath, and hugged herself as she squinted sickly in the lab bed's direction. "I know a lot of horrible things have happened, have been said. But none of that matters. Victor didn't deserve this. He didn't...d-didn't... ... ..." She covered her face as her eyes curved in, melting. _"... ...I-I'm sorry... ...But just to see him like this, it's so wrong. Just so wrong—Like he's a broken appliance or something. It makes me **sick** what was d-done to h-him..."_ Courtney choked, the tears welling up.

"Awwwww **puppies**." Garfield grunted and wrapped around her. "Come here already..."

She clutched him hard, sobbing over his shoulder.

Beast Boy stared firmly at Beast Boy, hardening up his own eyes so that—with a gulp—he glanced Raven's way. "I...erm... ... ...I-I briefly talked to Robin. He's dealing with the cleanup of last night's _escapade_ with the Commissioner."

"And then he's coming here, right?" Raven asked, almost wishing she hadn't.

"Heh.. ..._Our_ Robin?" The slightest hint of a smirk. Beast Boy said: "Knowing him, he's currently out on a quest to find and kick the ever sucking crap out of the dickless bastards who did this to Vic. I'd be out there, helping him, if I haven't seen enough in twenty-four hours to make my skin crawl, much less witness an apprentice from Gotham teaching the criminal underworld hao to make love to their underpants."

"Sounds like you've been playing messenger for everyone, Beast Boy..." Raven said calmly, gazing off into the corner of the room with a sudden, distant look in her face. "... ...we should all be grateful to you. Especially after we all split off like anxious children. You've been very mature and responsible."

"Yeah, well, I know you could care less about-" Beast Boy blinked. He squinted at Raven. "Uhm... ...D-Did you just _**compliment**_ me, Raven?"

"... ... ..."

"R-Raven?"

She was staring at a lone figure, a lone figure who was standing straight up, a lone figure who was solemnly quiet, solemnly patient. Her hands in her lap. Her alien eyes... ...green with life.. ... ...faded on the shadowed edges of the figure that lie before her, almost as quiet, deathly as still. Koriand'r did not move from that spot so long as Vic didn't move from his.

"... ... ..." Raven blinked.

"Raven?"

"Hrmmm... ..." The sorceress finally turned to gaze at Beast Boy and a sniffling Courtney. "Sorry. But, before we talk ourselves into any more circles, I think I should try to lend a hand somehao... ..."

"What's your department is your department—_Uh, Courtney, let's switch..."_ Garfield shifted so that he was hugging Courtney from another angle. _"...my right shoulder feels like Niagra nao. Ahem—_So, wutever voodoo you do, Raven, do it unto others as you would have it voodoo'd to you."

"I'll try to be slightly less _plebeian_ about it." She muttered and strolled past them.

"Heh... ..." Beast Boy managed a grin. "There's the Raven I know."

"_I-I think I'm gonna throw upppp..."_ Courtney sputtered.

"You and me both, braces."

Raven shuffled up to the bleeping circle of computer equipment crowning the hazily lit area surrounding Cyborg's dead-still form.

"Miss Raven... ..." Doc Hunnicutt blindly nodded.

"Doctor... ..." She turned and motioned with her head. "And Doctor..."

"One sec..." The younger and more panicky Ray fumbled over a computer console, flickered through two, three, four monitors of scrolling data, and resumed probing Cyborg's shoulder console with various sparkling needles. "Raven. Hello. Uhm... ... ...Serious stuff. Serious stuff here."

"I don't think you need to bother with a bedside manner when the bed is a slab and the patient is as conscious as a ship's rudder." Raven droned and squinted at all the bits of cybernetic data flying across the computer screens. "So, just out with it. Hao bad is he...?"

"He... ..uhm... ...It's...Victor's got... ...uhh..." Ray sweated, panted, gasped, and flurried once more over all of his equipment. "Serious stuff. We've got serious stuff here-"

Doc Hunnicutt calmly throated: "Early this morning, Cyborg synced with something utilizing the cranial docking station located at the rear of his neural redirection node. Normally, there is a thermal barrier protecting this node from the data matrix that processes the input device in his docking station. But whatever it was that he allowed into his personal circuitry, the datastream reprogrammed the thermal barrier to overload—so that an overflow of energy was charged into his neural redirection node. What resulted was a cascade of energy that overloaded every branch of neural command functions, so that every one of his mental and motor programming drives was sacrificed to make space for the influx of energy. It was still not enough to contain the flow, and with no other outlet—his circuits commanded an emergency thermal expulsion—resulting in an unprecedented discharge of heat and electricity in every external piece of his hardware."

"What could possibly cause that sort of an invasive energy flow... ...?" Raven remarked.

"Nothing I have ever witnessed..." Dr. Ray stammered. "Nothing on this Earth, at least."

Raven squinted. "Meaning... ...?"

"I used to experiment with Intergang weaponry before—Stuff confiscated from before and after the Apokolipton Invasion years ago..." He rushed from computer to computer, typing madly, while uttering: "And every piece of equipment we hooked up to the stuff typically exploded, because no earth-made computer is capable of syncing with the data flow and surviving."

"You think Intergang made the computer that Cyborg hooked himself up to-?"

"Honestly, I haven't a clue. I was just stating an example. Whatever that thing was that Cyborg hooked up with, it's not only fried his circuitry like the Doc here just explained. But it's done something deliberately nefarious—I-I'm convinced of it... ..."

"You mean about his central core being in a state of overload?"

"Yes. Exactly." Ray gulped and murmured onward while working. "The manner in which his neural systems overloaded tricked his core into believing he was suffering the opposite: a power **drain**. So, instead of shutting daon to reboot, his core is burning like napalm. It's trying to cycle extra energy to a hardware that's barely there—much less needing juice."

"And as a result... ... ..." Hunnicutt speaks gently while examining Victor's flesh forehead. ".. ... ...our beloved Victor is running a temperature of one hundred and **twelve**."

"Azar... ..." Raven exhaled. "... ...hao is that humanly possible...?"

"As Cyborg, Victor has survived impossible temperatures before—But not for this long, and possibly longer.. ..." Hunnicutt sighed. "If we can't get his core to cool down so he can survive long enough for a reboot, then he'll literally _melt_ on the operating table."

"Doesn't Victor have... ..._hmmm_... ... ...a 'backup' core for himself in a situation like this?"

"Of course..." Ray nodded. "But this is the first time his core has overloaded and _stayed_ that way. It makes a transplant next to _impossible_ without making him collapse in on himself."

"Then that's the key—to find a way to get his core to shut down long enough to put a replacement in...?"

"But so far... ..." Ray sweated, flurrying once more over the various instruments. "Just short of subjecting him to a direct EMP shockwave—which would be fatal to both _him_ and our _equipment—_We haven't a solution yet. But believe you me, we're working on finding one. Come Hell or high water, we're gonna pull him through this!"

"And as for exactly what it was that caused this-"

"That's up for Robin to figure out. We spoke with him earlier over the communicators. Right nao, we gotta save Victor Stone's life..."

"His flesh, which is attached to the core, is beginning to burn from the inside out.. ..." Hunnicutt said gravely.

"... ... ... ... ..." Raven's limbs shifted from under her robe. "Hao long does he have?"

Hunnicutt and Ray exchanged cold glances.

Raven leaned her head to the side. "Doctors..." She asked. "Hao long?"

Hunnicutt replied: "A day. Maybe two, but then every single organ in his body would be burned beyond recognition."

"Then, if I may assist in the one way that I can..." Raven shuffled forward.

"Do you also have a degree in cybersurgery?"

"No. But I am well read in the Sorcery of Metreon."

"I... ...I-I beg your pardon?"

"You gentlemen professionally concern yourselves with the body and the circuitry of Victor, and I'll professionally concern myself with the spirit." Raven flexed her fingers meditatively as she began to hover above the figure in the center of the laboratory operation. "I promise and assure you—I will not get in the way of your administrations. If anything, I can be an aid to your procedure, and help you with your progress."

"I...we... ...uh..." Dr. Ray blinked.

"That would be very much appreciated, Miss Raven..." Hunnicutt said, with a gentle smile. He briefly patted the younger man's shoulder. "We are most fortunate to have her assistance, doctor. Nao we are working on three fronts."

"Heh.. ... ..." Ray neckbeardily smiled. A firmer breath: "Y-Yeah, I suppose we are..."

"Carry on..." Raven murmured, gently, for she was already extending her soul self invisibly through the room, through the computer equipment, through the lab table, through the floor. But searched as she did, pulsed as she did, meditated and concentrated and felt as she did...

The sorceress glanced over towards the corner once more. Kory sat, hands in her lap, waiting, hoping, quiet. The dark girl took a deep breath and shut her eyes in meditation.

... ... ...she could not sense Vic's soul. Anywhere.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_Creaaaaaak!_

A rusted door opened to a metal shack on top of an abandoned apartment building's rooftop. In the scalding white light of the afternoon Sun, a lithe figure appeared. A billow of a cape, and Robin stepped into the claustrophobic room. He glanced left, glanced right, and reached a hand to his utility belt. _**Scrkkk!**_ He produced a birdarang—flicked his thumb to the center—and switched on a bright, halogen-hot light.

The entirety of the shack's interior yawned into existence. An array of cubicle, metal-laced computer mainframes stood in a row before the Boy Wonder like cornered murder suspects.

The caped crusader's mask narrowed. He stabbed the brightly lit birdarang into a high part of the wall behind him. _Ch-Chtunk!_ With a full lamp's glow, he knelt before the machine and began running his gloved fingers up and daon the lengths of it, looking for signs of human interaction, hints of manufacturing, weak spots or strong spots or fissures or bolts or—anything—that could give a clue as to the thing's construction, and a key towards a field autopsy.

Finally, the Boy Wonder reached into one of his larger belt pockets and produced a calculator-sized device. He flipped it open, revealing a repulsively tiny keyboard and LCD screen. The termite sized but functional laptop (or 'kneetop') flickered to life as he brought up its wireless detector and scanned the mainframes before him.

There was no data.

A deep exhale, and Robin fingered a dangling—half charred cable hanging from the side of the mainframe. He gazed at it hard, then glanced at his tiny computer device. An exhale... ... ...and he spooled out more cable before fusing it to his sacrificial lamb of an electronic device. A few keystrokes, and he watched closely as strings of code splashed across the LCD screen like a Magic Eye Matrix of cryptic proportions.

Squatting there, in the last standing spot of a once-living Cyborg, Robin proceeded to dig deeper into the killer code. Every second that passed, and the Robin-puter was in one piece...instead of several smoking pieces, he counted his blessings, and persisted, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Robin:)**

**April 24th, 2004**

**Jump City Entry # 112**

"**One step forward, and two steps back... ... ...or more like two hundred somersaults back. I know I've said my piece over why Jump City is named what it is, but I think I finally ascertain the truth. Nobody in this place can ever walk in a straight line—ever. Even if they are right in their hearts before justice, god, and evolution—the only way to make progress is to digress, to go back and forth in a devil's hopscotch of convoluted smoke and mirrors.**

"**I think I finally begin to understand Cyborg's vision—of an Underworld that's hidden beneath the refraction of several revolving lenses, of circles within circles distorting this place, and yet running this place all the same. Funhouse cogwheels; it's a shame, really, that it would take Victor exploding from the inside out to teach me the truth he has always smelled with that second sense of his.**

"**One other person in history saw wheels within wheels. His name was Ezekiel; and he was a prophet of things to come? Me? I'm a detective. If there are wheels within wheels, then the damn things must be leaving tracks. Even if they're in the air—I must track them down. I must break the circle.**

"**I just need to concentrate. The facts of a case—_especially_ an unsolved case—are always right before you. The challenge is singling the significant facts out before you know that they _are_ to _become _significant. Life is too short and circumstancial to expect time to heal all gaps in contemplation, to do all the work for you before the unthinkable hits the fan. You have to be smarter than that; you have to outthink time, to be craftier and sharper than its clock-winding ways. Say what you want about the Joker, Lex Luthor, or Ra's Al Ghul. Time is a detective's worst enemy. And right nao, Victor is in its heinous clutches.**

"**Firstly, we are pursuing the 'Underworld'—something that Victor believes in, yet something that nobody else seems to accept. Kneehouse and Cid think he's a moron. Decker doesn't give him a leg to stand on, in spite of all their years of knowing each other. Even Victor's team—including myself, sadly—has been dubious at best in supporting his theories. The only person I've come across who in some obscure fashion or another supports the existence of the Underworld is D-Cube, and even that is reaching.**

"**Secondly, this quest of Victor's has reached several snags. At first, it was a gradual and dissapointing stretch of time with zero to little leads on the Underworld. Then it was an attempt on several gang members to distract us by blowing up a gas station and claiming no allegiance to their... ... ...gangs. Finally, there was the brief and ecstatic moment of discovery, when we tapped into an actual, legitimate, honest-to-goodness meeting between Neon Hand and Dead Men representatives. We staked the scene out. We even got recorded audio from the exchange. But we didn't attack the two groups. We didn't bring the thunder daon in some merciless sting operation—because we expected to catch the Underworld in the act of transferring Gordanian technology across town.**

"**Which brings me to the third factor—Kobayashi. The world's leading spearhead for clean business and corporate shareholding in Jump City. He also happens to be the closest thing to Victor's ally, and potentially even a financial supporter, if all things go well. Kobayashi's daughter and Victor are practically B.F.F.'s, for god's sake. And yet—It is Kobayashi, of all people—who gets caught in the awkward position of receiving the unmitigated wrath of Cyborg's team. This almost got Kneehouse to hang us by the JCPD Flagpoles there and then. And yet, by Kobayashi's grace, we survived.**

"**Only for the fourth factor to transpire; Kobayashi is nearly assassinated. Or was it really ever meant to be an assassination? Yes, things got dangerously hairy at the Vaughan Concert Hall, but we handled it well, mostly thanks to Raven and Starfire. As a matter of fact, we handled it so damn well—it could possibly have made us look like a new Justice League, the new Justice League of Jump City, if only the media was there to take a snapshot of us saving the future mayoral candidate. But...**

"**Factor Five—All Hell breaks loose, literally, on purpose. For an old haunt from my past came masquerading as the very same assassin targeting Kobayashi. And knowing we wouldn't all settle for just saving Kobayashi, he led us on a chace of antimerry proportions. And once we were _finally_ within the spotlight of witnesses, he made us look like harbingers of doom. For that is exactly what we became. It's not so much that we lost sight of our better senses, he filled our peripheral with a great, terrible horror—and he did it on purpose. And what should have been a textbook operation, instead became a trainwreck worthy of Homeric citation.**

"**There has to be a commonality to all five of these factors, so chronologically etched into our green, noobish palms. And I think it's finally starting to shape before me into something cohesive. The commonality is that everything and everything we've stumbled upon wants to distract us or confound us in the goal at hand—Cyborg's goal—to find and uproot the Underworld. And when things are so obviously opposed to something you're dedicated to, then that can only mean one thing.**

"**The Underworld is here. It is catching up with us. It rules Jump City; it lives and ferments in its bosom, and it wants us out before we can become anything worthy of its fear, much less its indignation.**

"**Despite all that the Underworld has launched at us, we have perservered. We have had reasons to hate ourselves, to doubt ourselves, to distrust each other, to insult each other—out of frustration. But the very reason we're perservering is due largely in part to the latest arrow slung by this terrible dragon that detests us, that it thought would finish us.**

"**They attacked Cyborg. They killed him, tore him from inside out. They did it on purpose, to destroy the last and only person who believed in his dream—the dreamer himself. Kobayashi's also a dreamer, and they nearly killed him too. I shudder to think what could happen to that man if we were to dissipate. I shudder to think of what could happen to all of Jump City if this team broke up—like it almost broke up last night. And I would be lying to myself if I denied the fact that it nearly did.**

"**If I had any doubts in the past about what I am doing here, they are gone nao. I am more focused on my task at hand than I was when I was on my own here, months ago, penetrating Powers Inc, harassing D-Cube, chasing Dragonflare until my limbs nearly fell off. I must finish Cyborg's quest. I owe it to him, to this City, and I owe it to myself. Katarou, after all, wanted to project us as irresponsible disastermongers. Well, we all can't have nice things, nao can we? End of entry."**

**-T-T-T-T-T-T-**

Hours into the attempted counter-hack, Robin was leaning against the shack's wall, his body a sea of spandex and sweat as he dutifully hunched over the tiny computer device in his green palms. He thumbed away at the miniature keyboard, fighting and struggling his way to make sense out of the code filtering in and out of the rogue mainframes he was plugged into.

"... ... ...hrmm.. ... ..who built you.. ...?" He murmured allowed as the waxing evening Sunlight bent at an angle through the open doorframe. "... ... ...you're worse than Riddler's programming... ... ..like a cyclone of useless data... ..."

His head spun, as washed within a tornado of circuitry.

The Boy Wonder exhaled, wiping his sweaty brow with a sigh. "... ... ..." A Vulcan eyebrow raised over his eyemask. "This... ...This is not about _me_ and the machine. It's not _my_ contest. It's.. ..."

A jolt; he shifted—as if shot in the rear end by something. Instead, Robin calmly reached back and pulled loose the yellow communicator from his rear utility belt pouch. He squinted at the thing, looking it over, flipping the top open with a Star Trek sound...absent mindedly.

_Victor Stone's tech. Practically a piece of his metal 'flesh'._

"... ... ... ...Let's just see have _vengeful_ you are, data tornado..." He murmured as he fished through his utility belt for a tinier data cable. He fiddled with a panel in the back of the communicator, prying it open. _**Sn-Snap!**_ With circuitry exposed, he produced a series of needle-sharp instruments and fused the cable to the interior of the communicator. He reached into yet _another_ of his many belt pockets and produced what looked like a tiny upside down metal umbrella. He stood up on stiffed legs, walked under the hazy glow of the birdarang light, and stuck the miniature device on the outside of the shack's doorframe—tilting it skyward. He split the data cable dangling out of the communicator and attached one end to the receiver. _Whurrrrr!_ The tiny dish bloomed like a silver rose and tilted even higher skyward as Robin shuffled over, spooled the last bit of the cable over, and lingered it just above the same input device that was receiving the cord from the rogue mainframe. He gave the wired communicator one last glance and smirked briefly, speaking aloud: "For the next few seconds... ...Try to pretend you are Cyborg's _brain_, got it? Good."

Breathlessly, he connected the last wire. A network was formed. Rogue mainframe to minicomputer. Mini computer to Stonetech communicator. Communicator to tiny satellite dish. A slight hum—the data stream flickered, flashed a brief and impossibly convoluted buckshot of code—and epileptically cycled through a cyclonic stream of information, forming a whirlpool of distorted snow on the minicomputer's LCD screen.

Robin briefly gaped at it—before his senses took over, and he flung a hand over to the dish aimed out the entrance of the shack. He transfixed on the signal being pumped out of the mainframe, redirected a good chunk of it, sent it bouncing skyward—through the airwaves—just as-

_**Vriiiiiiii!**_ The communicator's speakers took on a life of its own as the device screamed from the buckling storm of energy and invasive code frying its circuitry. Smoke billowed out of the device, and Robin could barely touch the heated thing to detach it from the last second before it exploded on the rusted floor of the shack. **_POW!_**

"Nnnngh..." He briefly winced, slightly singed, but nonetheless flung himself to the dish, plinking away on his minicomputer's keyboard. "Come on.. ...Come on.. ... ...answer the call. 'Cyborg was here'. Not Kilroy, Cyborg. Answer it... ...You cowardly pieces of filth. **Answer** it-"

_Bleep Bleep! Bleep Bleep!_ The dish stopped whirring as it picked up a signal bouncing back to its metal stalk in response to the mainframe's invasive signal being sent out. Robin's gloved fingers flew across the keyboard as he struck forth a series of commands, locating the source of the signal, calculating its distance from the dish, cross referencing with GPS and Jump City grid layout and—_**Bleep! FZZT!**_ The cyclonic snow dissipated, and the LCD screen on Robin's minicomputer returned to normal, showing a brightly colored map of Jump City, and somewhere—southwest of his location and across Town, a red dot ping'd...ping'd... ...ping'd. And it was inching its way further south-

"Damn!" Robin sneered. "They're moving fast.. ...Towards the Bridge!" He flung himself at the mainframe, snapped loose the cable, spooled it up, retracted the dish, removed a tiny node from the edge of his minicomputer, slid everything but the node back into his utility belt, popped the node into a spot on his glove—_beeping_-snatched the lit birdarang from the wall, left the burnt communicator, and bounded out of the shack, bulleting towards the edge of the rooftop, and fearlessly leaping off as he produced a grappling hook in midair. _**POW!**_ **_SWOOOSH!_**

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Somewhere...

On the southern edges of Downtown...

As cleanup crews and emergency vehicles formed a thick halo around the ruins of the Johnson Shopping Mall...

As thick walls of northbound traffic waited, lethargically, stacked bumper to bumper in the lanes that flanked the nao crumbling L-Track above...

The southbound traffic flowed swiftly, sparsely populated with the few moronic citizens who had business to do on the opposite side of Jump City.

And among them... ...A white utility van throttled, driving a little more speedily than the rest, with panicked hands at the wheel...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"Nnngh!"

Robin landed hard and somersaulted onto his feet. A breath, and he stood up to run across the lengths of the skyscraper whose roof he just landed on. The southern horizon bobbed before him with each bounding step, and in its center—parallel to an unbuilt 'T' to the east—was the majestic stalks of the Bay Suspension Bridge, glittering silverishly in the setting Sun.

"Yeah.. ... ..." He huffed and puffed, frowning into the spring air. "... ...J-Just drive your _one_ and _only _R-Cycle into the unbeatable guy in a war suit. You'll get along just fine..."

A groan as he reached for yet another grappling hook and dove suicidally off the building's edge.

"... ...Great thinking, Robin."

_**POW!**_ (Cl-Clank!) **_THWOOOO-OOOO-OOOOOSH!_** He soared down, down, down—reaching eight piles per hour at the furthest length of his swing—as he flailed past the unfinished skeleton of the Kobayashi Tower, flipped up, released the cord, and flung a sparkling fist back into his cape. _**Bzzzzt!**_ The polymerized titanium flattened outward behind him, and he glided murderously southward, eyemask fogging from the sheer friction as the beeping node in his glove increased, increased, increased in tempo...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_This is Kelly Hampton, reporting live from Main Street, where a series of young college students have gathered to peacefully protest the forced closing of Jenny's Pizzeria and Arcade. As you can see behind me, they have formed a human circle on the second floor balcony and are showing no signs of stoppi-"_

_**FWOOOO-OOOO-OOOOSH!**_

"_-ACK! Jeez—What the Hell was that? A cruise missile-?"_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Robin gritted his teeth as he angled himself against the beating wind, skimming the rooftops of cars in several lanes of traffic. He came in dangerously low, but didn't dare break out of the glide yet, not until-

The beeping slowed in tempo.

Robin gasped. He was heading due south. The target had moved further to the west, most likely heading towards the main thoroughfare that would lead them onto the bridge. He couldn't afford to slow down, so he produced a grappling hook in two hands. _Th-Thwish!_ He aimed at a lampposts on the corner of an intersection ahead, squinted, and fired-

_**POW!**_ Cl-Clank! The hook snared around the lamppost to his right. He gripped hard with his entire elbow. **_THWOOOSH!_** He was yanked—then flung westward.

"Nnnngh!" He let go of the cable, rocketed towards the floor, twirled upside down, fired with his left hand towards a skyscraper hig above—_**POW!**_ The hook flew up, up, up, and struck finally—_CLANK!_ He retracted and yanked on the cord just half a second before his gliding body would grind into the asphalt. _**FWOOOOSH!**_ His rocketing body was lifted up—skirting the twirling back of a cement truck—so that he was propelled up, up, up—along the height of the skyscraper. At the height of his ascent, he let go of the cable, kicked off the glass windows of the naked building with his boots—_Cl-Clank!_-and soared out into the naked air. "Httt!" He wrenched his body sideways, twirling until he glided southwesterly over many warehouse rooftops...zeroing in on his unseen target.

_Bleep!Bleep!Bleep!Bleep!_

"Come on... ...Come on... ..." The Boy Wonder seethed.

A broad intersection rested right before the onramp to the Suspension Bridge...

... ... ...and in the southbound lane heading towards it.. ... ... ...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

A white van was angling towards the stoplights. So were several sports cars, delivery trucks, a schoolbus, and a gaggle of other aluminum beasts of burden.

All of this, Robin witnessed, as he glided the last half a block and finally—_finally—_came to a stop on the ledge of a bricklaid warehouse overlooking the intersection. _Th-Thap!_ The young man panted, panted, flicked an electrified glove to his cape—loosening it.

"Which one is it.. ...?" He murmured. He glanced at the node stuck in his glove. The beeping was high-pitched at this point. One of the vehicles barreling in on the intersection was his target. But he couldn't—even for all of the experience in deduction possible for a single human being—guess which one was which. "Dammit, I didn't come all this way to-" He sneered, suddenly shoved an arm into his utility belt, produced four black discs, and flung them streetward with a growl. "HAUGH!"

_**Th-Th-Th-Thwish—**CLAMP!_ All four discs spread and each flew into a separate stoplight. A flickering of electricity, and suddenly each stoplight switched through yellow and then became red.

All four ways of traffic stopped dutifully, ending all motorized movement. A few blinking seconds into it, and the citizens in said cars stirred curiously, impatiently. Several windows rolled daon and several muttering voices filled the air, growing more and more thickly obscene.

"... ... ... .." Robin, still panting, rolled his eyes under his mask. With a sigh, he produced his bo-staff. _Scrkkkt!_ And lept down to the navel of Jump City below.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

The Boy Wonder landed form a glide, twirled his bo-staff, and faced the north edge of the lane while snarling: _**"ALRIGHT! THE GIG IS UP! DON'T MAKE ME HURT YOU!"**_ He roared, he practically gargled pure hatred and menace in such an expert way as to sound above the dozens upon dozens of purring motors. Once the last echo of his howl dissipated in the heated, darkly fumed air... ..the Boy Wonder's eyemasked gaze fell from one windshield to another, looking, waiting, praying for a reaction...

And then-

A door opened.

_Th-Thwip!_ Robin spun and prepared a fan of throwing discs. _CHIIING!_ _**"FREEZE!"**_

A frail businessman limped out of his convertible and flung forth an armful of confetti. "Here! Unpaid parking tickets! **Hundreds!** Literally HUNDREDS of them! Just please don't kill me! Pleeeeeasee..." The soiled gentleman fell to his knees, hands clasped together as he sobbed infantly before the stalled intersection, and the Boy Wonder in the crux of it.

Robin was halfway through facepalming when-

"_Hey, is that-"_

"_Oh shit-!"_

"_Get us out of here—Get-!"_

_**SCREEEEEECH!**_

"... ... ...!" Robin spun to look.

A white utility van was squealing its wheels in reverse. It grazed a startled passenger in a stationwagon behind it as it did a haphazard three-point-turn and went rocketing northward, back into the heart of Jump City, driving against swerving traffic.

"Oh, but of course..." Robin hissed, ran forward, jumped over the sobbing businessman, vaulted over an SUV, and fired a grappling hook straight at the van in mid-air...

... ...just as it screeched towards the right and drove right into a sea of warehouses. _**VRMMM!**_

"Dammit-" Robin retracted his hapless grappling cord, jogged, sped past curiously gazing people stepping out of their parked vehicles-and reached the edge of an onramp. "Nnnngh!" He leapt, flew through the air, and clamoring grabbed an armful of a second story warehouse fire escape. _Clannng!_ "Unnngh!" He grunted, hissed, pulled himself up, and planted his metal boots onto the metal catwalk. He ran up the next two flights of stairs until he was on the rooftop and bolting eastward—his eyes on the speeding white van below.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**SCREEEEEECH!**_ The van barreled around a corner, nearly ran over two leaping delivery men in the middle of the street, and then it throttled its way towards the Southern Commercial district. Several panicking figures flinched about through the windshield of the thing as they glanced back and forth down either side of the street, looking for a sign of their pursuer.

Unknown to them-

_SWOOOSH!_ Robin jumped directly above, his shadow skirting across the white celing of the van.

In midair, Robin flipped and flung his gloved fist down. "Nnngh!" A dozen black marbles flew down and showered the street a few naked meters in front of the speeding van. A blink, and each of the black pellets exploded—spilling green ooze across the asphalt, hissing.

The thick wheels of the white vehicle rolled over the sudden emerald puddle, and suddenly they weren't so thick anymore. _**P-POPPP!**_ The acidic compound melted the tires in mid-spin, so that the van veered left and right—its frightened passengers flinching as the getaway turned into an impending crash.

"Httt!" Robin grabbed onto a lampost, twirled his body up, flipped, came down—and landed in a squat. _Th-Thap!_ "... .. ..." He glared up. The van was barely keeping a straight line, but it was bearing down on him. He couldn't have wished for a better meeting.

_**CH-CHIIING!**_

Robin produced a razor sharp birdarang in both gloves. He marched towards the screaming, lurching van head on. The node on his glove beeped like a brass rattlesnake. Sweat dripped off his snarling face as he throated: "No more running away. Let's do this."

_**VRMMMMM!**_ The van shakily bounded towards him. The guilty party inside flinched and reached for their guns-

Robin reared both birdaraings, aiming at the engine compartment. "HAAAAAU-"

_**SWOOOOOOOSH!**_ A pair of legs from a swinging figure slammed thunderously into the Boy Wonder's ribcage from out of nowhere.

**WHAM!** His body went bounding across the asphalt—off a sidewalk curve—and smashing through a post box. _**CRASSSSH!**_

"Unnngh!" Robin winced all over, his lip bleeding. He stirred to get up—vaguely aware of the node in his glove beeping slower... ...slower. "N-No!" He gasped, eyemask wide. He flashed a look across the street, seeing the van limping away—And then a snarling black fist slammed into his vision. _**WHUD!**_

Robin reverse somersaulted over. Hacking up blood, he nonetheless held his breath and kicked up, flipped, and landed with his arms braced in front of him-

-just in time to block a roundhouse kick. _**WHUD!**_

"Hnnngh!" Robin growled, lifted his leg, ensnared it around the stranger's, and flung his fist at his upper torso-

_**CLUTCH!**_ A man in a black jumpsuit, with a solid black cowl caught Robin's fist straight on. He twisted the caped crusader's arm the wrong way with a professional's speed and dexterity.

"Aaagh!" Robin yelped, but could barely manage another breath as he was hoisted violently over the man's shoulder, spun, and flung nakedly through the air-

-and in the maddening twirl of topsy turvy gravity, Robin suddenly realized where he was...and just what building he was being flung into.

"_No.. ..." _He sputtered in the death-blink of flightless time. _"... ...god, please, not here-"_

**SMASSSSH!** And Robin's world was filled with glass. The shadowed figure dove after him, as both figures were swallowed up by a dark warehouse...

... ...on the top of which for letters dimly rested under waning daylight.

'S.O.T.O.'

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Phaser Labs...

Raven hovered above Vic, encapsulating the half-android's body in a dull, violet aura. Doctor Hunnicutt and Dr. Ray hovered about the medical table, sharing instruments and biological data streams and operational procedures. Towards the far end, Courtney and Garfield leaned against a wall, side by side, engaged in some shrouded and somber conversation as they gazed and gazed and gazed...

And she also gazed. Sitting from the sidelines. Her emerald eyes locked onto the scene.

Slowly, within the sphere of her own silence, she lowered her lids and murmured to the cold, sterile air about her:

"**M'berassa travorka niul sebunn de X'hal. Fen'battu lamarta thriel, hessun d'vor tuuk..."**


	20. Aces and Eights

**(Several Weeks Ago)**

"_You do realize that I am complete and total stranger, right?" Tim said loudly, attempting to make the fact clear over the pumping bass and electronica that filled the hall full of dancing, raving bodies. "I could be a very dangerous and untrustworthy person!"_

"_You? Hurt me?" She smiled, her eyes like twin blue comets crashing into him. She warmly squeezed his wrists and swayed him into her breath. "I really, really don't think you're of any danger..."_

"_And what makes you so sure?"_

"_Because of hao much you're trembling, gorgeous..." She laughed victoriously._

_Tim looked at her, and in an earthquake haze of lights and mayhem, he realized that she was right. The young man grabbed ahold of her gaze to keep from falling, and in the habitually bicyclish absurdity of the moment, he had no choice but to laugh as well._

_That laugh turned into a smile, as the girl yanked him clumsily into the center of the dance floor, saying something with a lavender smile that he was at war with himself to take seriously, until he decided not too, and suddenly he could hear his own heartbeat above the digital chaos._

_And hers..._

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(****April 24, 2004****. ... ... .****Nao****)**

Robin writhed in pain, blood surging through his body with a final centripetal echo of his violent entrance into the _S.O.T.O._ dance hall. The dark, cavernous interior of the converted warehouse stretched around him—devoid of life or movement—as he squirmed one last time and stood up on wobbling legs. It was barely five in the afternoon, far too early for anyone to show up and open the nightclub.

The Boy Wonder took a deep breath, his ribs shuddering painfully in the effort. He stood in the familiar belly of the darklit hovel, glancing dazedly at the rows upon rows of tables, benches, bars, and dance floor tiles—all dim and lifeless, aside from the explosive swath of shattered glass that collected under his scuffed boots. He stood there for what felt like minutes—until he blinked to realize that the minutes were actually milliseconds, and the hellish reality of the moment came rumbling up to his earlobes on the horse hooves of adrenaline-

-and he spun with a raised forearm to block the diving kick of the attacker in black who had thrown him in from the sunny street outside.

_**THAP!**_

"NNGH!" Robin snarled, pivoted his elbow around—stuck the man's boot under his arm—and yanked down hard with his other hand against the man's knee.

The figure was flung to the ground like the wrong end of a wheelbarrow. But in lightning quick reflexes, he planted his feet down, handplantted, and spun his body like a top.

Robin was yanked by the man's feet so that he spun through a table—_**SMASH!**_ "Augh!"

The man took a deep breath and spinerooni'd to his feet.

The Boy Wonder kicked up-

"_**HRAAUGH!"**_ The darkly cowl'd man dove at Robin with a fist.

Robin twirled to the side, rolled over the lunging man's back, and ended with a reverse headlock. Snarling, he stuck his legs back, kicked the man's feet out from under him, and yanked forward with all his strength. The man flew over Robin's head as the caped crusader body-slammed him against a booth. _**WHAM!**_

"Nngh!" The man rolled like a log into a stack of chairs that flew across the floor in an aluminum clatter-

"HAAAAA!" Robin spun a round-house kick towards the man's head.

The man fell back, reverse somersaulted, came up with a folded chair in his grasp, spun sevend hundred and twenty degrees, and flung straight at Robin's torso. _**THWOOSH!**_

Robin ducked the swing—rolled to the side to dodge another, and bravely raised his left knee to block the third chairshot. _**WHUDD!**_ He gnashed his teeth through the pain, pivoted on his standing foot, and bulleted an iron fist into the man's sternum-

-at the last second, the man braced the aluminum body of the chair across his ribs like a breastplate—_**CLANGGGG!**_-the force of Robin's punch was so great that the resulting dent knocked the figure off balance on the other side. He dropped the 'weapon' and stumbled back just as Robin bull tackled him at full force-

_**WHUD!**_ Robin straddled the man to the dance floor and raised a hand. _CHIIING!_ A sparkling disc came out, flickering like a taser. **BZZT!**

_**GRIP!**_ But the man's hand flew up and grabbed Robin's wrist, his expert thumb and forefinger hitting two pressurepoints within the teenager's limb.

"Hnnngh!" Robin winced and flung his other fist into a weak spot in the man's collarbone-

_**THAP!**_ But the man tactfully blocked with an open fist. Both grips on Robin's limbs, he rolled the two over and straddled Robin in turn. He bore his weight down on the young superhero, forcing the Boy Wonder's very own sparkling weapon daon towards his twitching eyemask. Robin struggled, sweated—and finally glanced straight up. He saw the upside daon image of a ceiling support beam at the corner of the S.O.T.O. club's bar. And several feet up, blinking steadily, was the warehouse's security alarm.

The Boy Wonder counted the seconds in his head since the bad guy had tossed him in there.. ... ...

"HNNGH!" Robin swung both knees up into the figure's chest. _**WHUMP!**_

"Hckkk-" The man briefly lurched-

A deep breath, and Robin let go of the man's stronger hand. _**SMASSSSSH!**_ The electrical disc sailed into the dance floor aside Robin's dodging skull, during which Robin snaked his way around the man's side, squatted on top of him, grabbed his arms in reverse—leaned back until he was hanging off the rising man's figure—and then hand planted with a heavy kick up. "NNGH!"

_**THWOOSH!**_ The man flew into the pillar chest-first. **_WHAP!_** He stumbled momentarily and spun around-

_Scrkkk!_ Robin had already produced his bo-staff and was charging with it. _**WHPPP!**_ He shoved it into the shoulder of the man's jumpsuit, violently hoisting the struggling figure up towards the lofty height of the support beam. The man could very easily have kicked out of the dangling position... ...

... ... ..if it weren't for the security alarm of the dance hall having gone off, with a shrill electronic shrieking noise, exactly sixty seconds to the blink since the fight started-and directly in the cowled man's ear.

_**SHRIIIIII-IIIIIIIIIII-IIIIIIIIIII-IIIIIIIII!**_

"AAAAGH!" The individual instinctually clutched his eardrums.

Robin snarled, released his shove of the bo-staff-

-the man slumped down to the ground-

-and Robin was on him with a dozen blurred slams of the bo-staff in so few screaming seconds. _**"HAAA! YAAA! HA-TAAAAA!"**_

The man jolted, shook, jostled, and stumbled at the end of every blow—Until he was finally rolled violently over the bar counter and into a shattering array of bottles. _**SMASSSH!**_

"... ... ..." Robin panted, panted, panted, gulped. He spun and gazed thinly out the shattered front window of the place. He remembered the white van. He remembered the signal bouncing back to the broadcast he emitted from the rogue computer. He thought of Cyborg dying, helpless somewhere, and the fleeing men in the streets who were the closest thing Robin had to an explanation.

Without a second's hesitation, he jumped forth to run straight back out the window-

_**THUNKK!**_ His head was suddenly ensnared in the support beams of a bar stool flung over his skull. "Snkkkkt-!" He hissed, his adam's apple painfully planted against a metal spoke.

The sneering man from behind was perched atop the bar, his grip tight to the stoolseat. He yanked the chair to the side—flinging Robin through two tables stacked on top of each other. _**CRASH!**_ Under the shrieking siren of the warehouse's alarm, he pounced upon the sprawled Boy Wonder, and the tumbling fight continued across the shadowed place...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Elevator doors opened before Nancy Drew's stoic face. She peered down the hallway of Phaser Labs silently, getting her bearings while simultaneously maintaining her composure. Her shoes clapped against the concrete walls as she strolled down, following a sign marked 'Infirmary'. The Stone Industries chairperson rounded a corner—stumbling upon a blonde girl with a blue facemask and a golden rod.

"M-Ms. Drew... ..." The young lady in spandex chimed up. "H-Hey there. Uhm... ...The Doc will be here in just one sec... ..."

"Right..." Drew nodded. She slid up to the side of the infirmary door in her business attire. "You... ...Erhm... ... ...You are _Starfire_, correct?"

Courtney managed a genuine, howbeit exhausted smile. "Close enough. Frankly, I could care less if someone called me 'Star Spangled Kid' at this point."

"Who's the _Star Spangled Kid_?"

"Exactly." A shower of footsteps. The blonde turned, and murmured: "Oh! Here we go..."

Doctor Hunnicutt shuffled up on tyred, elderly legs. He leaned against the wall and folded his arms with a deep breath... ...followed by a veteran attempt at a smile. "Nancy, a pleasure as always."

"Doctor... ..." Drew nodded. A half-hidden gulp. "Hao bad is it?"

"Mmm... ...Worse I've seen him. I'm having to constantly monitor his vital signs and administer nanoscopic doses by the hour _just _to keep his immune system from attacking his own insides. The only reason I can afford to break off and talk to you like this is because Dr. Ray and two of his assistants are with Vic as we speak. And even then, they don't know his physical structure like I do. So, we must necessarily make this conversation brief."

"Understood. What's the procedure so far-?"

"The _procedure_, if you would be gracious enough to call it that, is to keep Victor alive while we all pray to the Almighty that his core stops burning up like a nuclear meltdown."

"I thought Vic's energy core rebooted to prevent that-"

"Normally, yes. But the nature of this circuitry invasion is beyond anything I've ever witnessed before-"

"Circuitry invasion...?" Drew's eyes narrowed.

Stargirl spoke up, leaning on her rod. "This all started when Victor synced with a computer that was supposedly broadcasting to that nasty assassin we tangled with last night..."

"Well, of all the stupid stunts—_And you just let him?"_ Drew squinted.

Stargirl bit her lip bracedly. "We were... ... ...erm...kind of in the process of nearly breaking up. The team, that is."

Drew blinked at that.

"Whatever the case..." Hunnicutt spoke up once more: "...Victor's been infected with a deliberate attack on his energy circuits and—by their very connection—every synaptic pathway bordering his central fusion core. When normally he would just reboot and perform a total system recovery, his digital parts nao think that all the flesh connected is a foreign agent. The connection has been severed, and unless it can fix itself—his core is going to heat up indefinitely and fry all that's surrounding it."

"Can't you _reconnect_ him yourself?"

"Not without access to the core. We unplug him from that... ..." Hunnicutt sighed before finishing: "... ...and not even God and turn him back on again."

Drew took a deep breath.

"_Snkkkt—Doc? Doc Hunnicutt? This is Ray—We... ...erm.. ...We need you. L-Like right away-"_

Hunnicutt thumbed a button on the crackling intercom to his side. "I'm there. Don't fret, Ray." He released and stood once more on his two feet. "Vic's teammate, Robin, is currently on the trail of who or what has done this to him," he said while gazing at Drew. "It would be most fortunate if he can bring us a clue as to the nature of the energy serge that put Victor into this condition. But we can't bother ourselves to hope for a silver bullet, not at this point."

"I... ...Erm... ...Not to sound cold..." Drew sighed. "I've known Vic for a long time. I deeply respected and admired his father while he was alive. But..." She closed her eyes momentarily, swallowed, and stared thinly at the two. "The Board at Stone Industries needs to know—_mathematically_-what are the odds that Victor is going to come out of this unscathed, much less capable of running the company he's inherited."

".. ... ..." Stargirl gazed from Drew to Hunnicutt, nervously.

The old man inhaled, ran a hand over his graying head, and sighed with: "It's still too early to tell. There are just so many factors at hand, and-"

"Doctor, a multi-billion dollar company, and the one organization still capable of funding the many cybernetic medical facilities that the Stone Family started—_needs_ to **know**."

"Odds are ten to one." Hunnicutt droned, stonily immaculate. "He will mostly _**not**_ pull through this, Ms. Drew."

Stargirl choked on something. Drew and Hunnicutt glanced over to see her biting on her knuckle, staring painfully at some hidden thing through the cold tile floor.

A few painful, lingering seconds... ...and Hunnicutt excused himself, shuffling back towards the infirmary.

Drew took a deep breath, pivoted, and faced Stargirl more directly. "You have... ...Y-You've known Cyborg for a while?"

"Mmm... ...mm-hmm..." Stargirl gulped, sniffed, and looked up with a weak smile, her eyes glossy under her mask. "J-Just for a few months. Yanno.. ...the alien lizards and all. Ever since then, I-I guess..."

"Only a few months?" Drew nodded in a cold voice. "Good. Then you don't know what a lavishly spending bastard he can be at times."

The blonde superheroine giggled at that, sniffling down the shuddering moment some more. She brushed a few blonde bangs back and exhaled: "He's spoken very highly of you, yanno. With all he's done for this team, lately, even he knows he can't be at every board meeting of his dad's company. He's described you as the rock upon which he leans..."

"And if by 'rock', I'm sure he meant 'crutches'..." Drew chuckled dryly, then leaned back against a wall. "Still, the compliment is most respected."

"I... ...I-I haven't had a chance to be out and about since... ...since...well..." Courtney gulped and murmured: "... ...since everything happened, and... ...and..." She gazed up nervously at the woman. "Hao bad is it?"

"Hao bad is what?"

"Everything. The media is tearing us apart, aren't they?"

"The media tears everything apart. They're the televised equivalent to a starving ferret with a parokeet."

"Yes... ..But.. ..." Stargirl murmured. "If Vic pulls through this-" She winced. "-**When** Vic pulls through this, it would break my heart to have him come back to a City that doesn't trust him anymore."

"Miss Spangled Kid—To be perfectly frank, this City has never trusted him."

Stargirl gulped.

"I've had to make sacrifices—_Many_ sacrifices to keep Victor's company afloat, to see that his dream as 'Cyborg' became realized without all of the board members wanting to stab him in the back and ride away on a flying carpet of outside investors." Drew groaned and adjusted her suit's sleeves. "And with what's happened last night, I'm at a loss to see what tricks I can pull from my hat."

"It sounds like you've been through a lot, Ms. Drew. And I sympathize... ..." Stargirl looked up. "But... ...Victor doesn't dream lightly."

"I heard he got really angry at the whole lot of you last night before things hit the fan."

"And I can accept that. Really, I can. But..." Stargirl squinted. "... ...don't you think the biggest sacrifice here—is not the ones you've faithfully made, or the one I made in admitting his faults—But the one ultimate sacrifice that Victor is making, for his dream, right nao as we speak?"

"... ... ..." Drew took a deep breath. "I always knew that kid was going to be the death of something. This company—Sure. But... ...but himself-?"

"Ms. Drew..." Stargirl stared. "... ...I wish you could understand. Victor came closer than the rest of us to figuring out what's _really_ going on in this City. When he dies, the future of Jump City dies with him. And what will that sacrifice be for... ...? I wish I had the power to know."

Drew was at a loss to reflect upon that. Just then, a pair of shuffling foosteps echoed from around the corner. Both ladies turned to look...

And Detective Decker looked back, frozen in mid-stride. He squinted at the two, his arms hidded under his coat. He closely studied the pale expressions on both women before sighing, shuffling forward slowly, and scratching his stubbly chin.

"He's uh... ... ...He's really got it bad, hasn't he?"

Both women's gazes fell towards the tile floor.

"Hrnnff..." Decker sighed and tilted his head up toward the pale lights above. "Way to friggin' touchdaon, kid..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**SHRIIII-IIII-IIII-IIIII!**_

Robin took a punch to the chest, slid back across the shadowed dance floor—and winced from the proximity of the alarm siren overhead. The man slid towards him with a monstrous uppercut. The Boy Wonder dashed back, kneed the man in the chest, gripped his vertical forearm, and yanked his lower body up to knee the man in the side of the head.

_**WHAP!**_

The man stumbled as Robin held his breath, hoisted his body up atop the cretin's shoulders, and squeezed his thighs around the figure's cowled neck. The swift mounting of his weight shoved the man chest-first to the ground, so that Robin straddled his shoulderblades. _**Chiiing!**_ From there, Robin angrily whipped out a birdarang and flung it into the siren—**_CLACK!_**-silencing it.

"Enough!" Robin shouted into the naked silence afforded the two struggling fighters. He stabbed his knee into the small of the man's back and scooped the small of his neck into the crook of his elbow, preparing a vicious cross-hold. "Tell me who sent you and I'll leave you with less broken bones-"

_**WHUMP!**_ The man's skull flew back into Robin's chin.

The breath left the pained Caped Crusader as he prepared a fist to slam daon into the stubborn fellow's neck-

_**TH-THWPP!**_ The man rolled over, somehao grappled Robin in a reverse armbar, then kicked up to his feet—flinging the Boy Wonder against a booth seat. _**WHUMP!**_

"Oooff!-" Robin winced.

_Stomp-Stomp-Stomp!_ The man charged at him, both fists joined together to form a human sledgehammer-

_THWAP!_ Robin kicked the table out from in front of him. The wooden thing rolled in front of the man and partially blocked the site of him.

The attacker in black gripped the table with two hands and made to toss it aside-

_**SMASSSSSH!**_ Robin dove violently through the thing with a jump kick, shattering it to splinters and knocking the man off balance. In a single breath, the world still snowing wooden slivers around them, Robin spun and slammed his elbow across the chin of the stumbling man—followed by a high split-kick that nearly tore the stranger's cowl off. **_WHUDD!_**

Robin twirled and made to finish him off with a soaring roundhouse kick-

_**GRIP!**_ The man caught the Boy Wonder's boot in a reverse group. He spun, twirling Robin by the raised limb like a ballerina, and reverse kicked the teenager in the tailbone.

Robin pratfalled into a concrete beam. _WH-WHUMP!_ He clutched to it with two palms, wincing. He felt a surge of air and jumped straight up, legs splitting—_**THUD!**_-the man's foot sailed hard into the column below him. Robin came down, straddling the knee, and slammed his left arm back. _WHAM!_ Once. _WH-WHAP!_ Twice-

**THAP!** The man grabbed Robin's arm on the third hit. He lowered his leg and wrenched Robin's arm the wrong way from behind. He twisted and pulled with such force, that Robin would quite likely have been dislocated in a blink...

_If it hadn't been for the fact that he'd been put through it before-_

"Nnnnghh..." Robin hissed, his eyemask suddenly thin. Struggling from the man's pressure on his arm from behind, he flung his right arm to his utility belt, produced a grappling hook, and shot blindly down between his legs. _**POW! TH-THWP!**_ The cord wrapped around the man's thigh. "HCKK!" Robin yanked hard on the cord, yanking the man behind him to the ground—releasing Robin's pained left limb. It was just as well, for the Boy Wonder ran into the column before him, jumped off it, flipped, and came down with a vicious knee across the grounded man's shoulder. **_WHUDD!_**

"Aaugh!" The man shouted, kicked Robin off him, and rolled to the side. He took an extra second to stand up, gripping his pained arm-

_Th-Th-Thwpp!_ Robin twirled the grappling cord and hook so that it dangled threatenly over his outstretched palm as he stuck a fighting pose. "Game's over, Katarou. I know it's you..." He seethed through gathering breaths. "It's more than obvious that you survived that explosion at the Johnson Shopping Center—Set it up yourself, even."

"Nnngh... ..." The man flexed his arm and stood proudly across from Robin. "Keep pretending that you are not surprised, boy. Last night's dance was mine from the beginning."

"My team leader's in a deathly coma because of your so-called-dance... ..." Robin snarled. "Hundreds of people nearly died and this City still has the scars to prove it. So stop toying with me and _**masks off!"**_

"Hrmm... ...If only you had the intention to be fair... ..." A hand reached up and slid the dark black cowl off. A grinning face, almond eyes, immaculate bald head. "But you stand more to lose from giving up the charade, do you, Mr. Drake?"

Tim's eyes narrowed from under Robin's mask. "She told you... ... ..."

Katarou nodded. "Only because you made no attempt to end her, like she should have ended you. I wonder hao many other pupils of Lady Shiva are nearly as lucky...?"

"You had every opportunity to ruin me and my career these last few months... ... ...And instead you attack my team with a camp worthy of legends, playing the role of a destructive psychopath. And to what end? What are you accomplishing, Katarou?"

"You have become an honorable warrior, Mr. Drake... ..." Katarou sneered, slowly pacing sideways across the dance floor while Robin gawked at him. "... ...I call you 'simpleton' in character, of course. What I have done—and done so expertly—I have done under contract. You just happened to be in the way..."

"Your diseased sense of 'honor' nearly ended the lives of dozens of innocent people!" Robin growled. "Hao does a 'warrior's code' apply to that?"

"Oh—But they were never in any real danger, were they, Mr. Drake...?" Katarou sneered. "Mr. Stone and his trained howbeit impulsive team compensated for every violent thing I did. Alas, it will be up to the media and the ravenous throes of public opinion that will bring your team to its undoing. And not a single person had to die—Well, except for one necessary martyr. Be glad, Robin, that it was not you—But instead the architect of your absurd band of superheroes."

Robin blinked invisibly over his shoulder, mentally drawing the image of the white van of suspects. He stared fixedly at Katarou once more. "So, because you chose sides with Jump City's Underworld—for reasons I can't even begin to deduce—you're willing to let a benevolent defender of justice fall to ashes?"

"It was his casket to be made... ..." Katarou smirked. "And as for whose side I am on? Mine, of course. Contract or no contract... ... ...I do not wish to see you dead, Mr. Drake."

"Jee, thanks."

"The simpleton has become a warrior... ..." A silverish smirk. "Perhaps he will live long enough to become a man."

"I don't need you to lecture me, Katarou. In spite of all your skills, all your travels, all you're training, and all your ridiculous notions of honor—All you've ever been is a pain in the ass. That's all you're ever going to be. And tonight, you're going to jail."

"Hmmph." The man smirked. "Of course I am." He flinched both wrists forward, flinging suddenly a pair of shuriken Robin's way. "HNTT!"

_SW-SWISSSSH!_

Robin gasped, spun daon to his knee, ducked the two bladed weapons, and flung the corded grappling hook forward. _**TH-THWAPPPP!**_

The cord flew forward and spun three times around Katarou's proud chest. The man merely smirked.

Robin prepared to yank back-

-when the two shuriken bounced off a support beam behind him, ricocheted back, and grazed either side of his lithe body. _**SL-SLIINK!**_

"AAUGH!" Robin shuddered-

Katarou, at the end of his rope, charged straight towards Robin, leapt, and flew his foot across the Boy Wonder's reeling chin. "HAAAUGH!"

_**WHAM!**_ Robin spat blood and stumbled up to his limping feet-

_WHUMP!_ Katarou plowed into him and shoved the two out into the glistening sunlight-

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**SMASSSSH!**_

They barreled out another window front together, sending glass shards shaoring everywhere. A dozen gathered bystanders and workers from the warehouse district gasped and scattered.

Robin heaved and kicked up to his boots, his costume in tatters. He squinted through hazy vision and glanced left and right-

Katarou was running across the street, his cowl already slipped back on. He leapt and grabbed onto a building ledge to make his daring escape-

"Hppp!" Robin jumped, kicked off a mailbox, jumped off a newspaper stand, leapt over a pair of gasping face—grabbed onto the neck of a lampost, twirled up so that he perched atop the thing—and took a suicidal dive off of it, stretching his cape apart for extra leverage as he glided across the street-

-and plowed into Katarou's body, knocking the two of them into an alleyway. _**WH-WHUMP!**_ The two tossled, tumbled, and ended up by the side of the docks—with Katarou kicking Robin off him in a single breath.

Robin backflipped, landed in a slide, and produced two birdarangs. _CH-CHIIING!_ "Katarou!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. "Surrender nao-"

"You assume that this is a fight, Robin..." Katarou hummed and produced a black disc out of his costume. "It isn't."

_Beep Beep Beep!_ He single-handedly planted what turned out to be an explosion against the side of a UPS truck beside him. The driver and three pier workmen glanced over from nearby and gasped.

Robin twitched. He glanced around, realizing that the entire area within the blast radius was filled to the brim with hapless afternoon dock workers.

"This is but another dance." Katarou bowed, then backflipped mightily onto the building's rooftop above him. "Time again to choose. Your vendetta? Or your self-righteous lunacy...?"

"Dammit—_Dammit!"_ Robin sheathed the birdarangs. Under a cascading curtain of Katarou's chuckles, he rushed towards the UPS truck and went to work on the disc, carefully detaching the beeping black thing from the body of the vehicle.

A man walked over. "Holy shit—Is that what I think it is-?"

Robin literally elbowed the man in the chest, shoving him away. "Back **OFF!** This thing will explode any second-!"

A shrill whistle.

Robin glanced up, breathlessly.

Katarou was perched even higher on a pier-side lamppost. His arms was folded briefly as he throated daon: "And in case you even _think_ of digging your Teen Tragics out of the hole Victor Stone dug for them..." With that, he flung yet another explosive—out into the waters—straight at a fishing boat. "... ...here's a taste of what you will have to deal with."

Robin gasped, his eyemask reflecting twin black dots sailing towards the hapless ship. As Katarou dove into urban obscurity, the Boy Wonder pulled at the explosive on the van with all his strength. "Hnnnnngh—_NNNGH!_" **CRACK!** The thing beeped faster as he tore it loose, spun once, spun twice, and flung the thing with a lunging dive. "HAAAAA!"

_**Swisssssssssssssh!**_ The black disc twirled like a flying saucer, arched low, and quite expertly struck the other explosive in mid-air. **_CL-CLANK!_** Instead of sailing into the hull of the fishing vessel, Katarou's second charge plopped into the Bay water, as did its sibling. Then—_**P-POWWWWW!**_ A huge bulge of water domed up from the dark waves, refracting the amber glow of the sunset into rainbow madness. Men gasped and scattered as a makeshift tsunami surged towards the dockside.

But Robin stood his ground, because he shuddered to see...

On the other side of the frothing tidal wave, the nearest fishing boat was beginning to cap-size, and its single occupant was clamoring to stay above water as the ship began to buckle and-

"Nnngh!" Robin ran forwards, sprinted the length of the dock, bounded over rumbling planks snapping under the huge ocean spreay-and dove straight into the huge swell of sea water.

_**SPLASSSH!**_

A breathless blink, bubbling, and a grappling hook fired out of the dome of water. _Thwisssssh—**CLANK!**_ The hook stuck into the boat, pulled taut, and dragged an airborne, soaked Boy Wonder out the back of the wave. He sputtered, flew, twirled, and landed on the side of the boat just as a second swell started to shatter the thing in two. He grabbed the gasping seaman, whipped out another grappling hook, and fired at the high roof of a bricklaid warehouse-

_**CRASSSSSH!**_ The boat shattered into a salty miasma of splinters and foam beneath the shrieking seaman's legs as Robin hoisted the elderly fellow along with him, towards the warehouse—Only to be chased by-

_**SPLOOOOOO-OOOOSH!**_

Robin gnashed his teeth and glanced back. He was met with a wall of Jump City Bay, blanketing all sight.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**Glb-Glb-Glb-Glb-Glb!**_

The water dispenser dribbled into the paper cup, ending in a sputtering gasp as a green finger released the plastic faucet. Beast Boy raised the cup to his lips, took a deep swill of the cold, cold liquid—and finally splashed some on his wincing face.

"Nnnngh... ... ...Screw you too, sleep." He blinked haggardly as he sighed and leaned against the water tank.

The thing bubbled insultingly.

Beast Boy frowned. He shifted his weight.

The thing bubbled again.

Beast Boy stared at the thing, squinted...

The thing bubbled-

_**WHAM!**_ "SHUT UP!" Garfield snarled. The tower wobbled, bubbled like mad, and rattled to a stop beside his trembling figure. He sighed long and hard, kicked a boot back against the Phaser Labs wall and marched back towards the door to the infirmary. "Grff... ...The day I can't talk down a water cooler is the day I might as well call it quits try out for a Star Wars Prequel..." He tossed the crumpled paper cup lethargically over his shoulder-

_Clutch!_ A hand caught it with nicotine stained fingernails. _"Littering is a felony, kid."_

Beast Boy started. He spun, blinking. "Oh. It's you. Hello, you."

"Hrmmph.. ..." Decker marched over towards a wastebasket and dropped the offensive article inside. "Just cuz you're green as a turd, kid, doesn't mean you need to act like one."

"So what? John Cena is and does."

"... ... ..." Decker squinted at him with an epically confused look.

"Guess we've not chatted ever before..." Beast Boy smiled nervously. He gave a half-salute. "I'm Garfield Logan, Beast Boy."

"I could hardly give a crap." He motioned his head towards the infirmary door. "You one of Vic's caped cohorts?"

"I guess you could say that—Er-M-Minus the cape."

"Then that's good enough. You're alright in my book."

"R-Really? That simple?"

"**Hell** no. I never do things by the _book_."

"I had no clue—What, with your John McClane swagger and scented _Passion de'Tobacco_ by Calvin Klein."

"Heh... ...Did Vic teach ya to give me lip or are you just naturally asking to have your fuzzy skull knocked around?"

"The latter's been true since the day I first learned to fling tofu with a spatula." Beast Boy cast a morbid glance at the infirmary doors and leaned back against the nearby wall with a sigh. "But if you must know—Victor's always seemed to like you. I mean, don't get me wrong, sometimes he wants to wring your neck-"

"Uh huh..."

"-and punch you in the face for being blind as a bat-"

"Yeah... ..."

"-and give you a titanic wedgie over not helping him talk daon Kneehouse..."

"I **get** it." Decker grumbled, reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, took one mindful glance at where he was, and dispassionately put the pack away before folding his arms beneath his coat. "Sucks that the boxing match between the two of us is gonna have to be put off indefinitely. Not that it matters. Everything we've ever had to air out has already gone through the laundry rinse. Hrmph... ...Fortunate for us."

"You used to know Victor's dad—Silas Stone, didn't ya?"

"Mmm. You can say that again... ..." Decker nodded towards the double doors. "Along with good 'ol Doc Hunnicutt in there. The three of us went way back. For a while there, it almost felt like we were pioneers of Jump City—covering the medical, federal, and financial lengths of this place. Silas alone started over a dozen humanitarian projects, and to this day Hunnicutt runs half of them still. Hmmph... ...God rest his soul, Silas. Just goes to show, every dynasty comes to an end."

"Weren't you.. ...erm.. ..." Beast Boy bit his lip and smiled nervously. "Not that I mean to pry-"

"Nobody ever means it and yet they still friggin' do."

"Alrighty then—Weren't you, like, Commissioner of this City?"

"Yes. Yes." Decker sighed. "Once upon a time, I was."

"Hao come that Cinderblock Kneehouse took it over from you?"

"Watch it, kid. Only Victor or me am allowed to call her by that nickname." Decker glared above his five o'clock shadow. "If y'all pull through this mess and want even a _modicum_ of respect from her frumpy head, ya better fly right."

"It's all about flying right around the Jump City Police Department, isn't it?" Beast Boy smirked knowingly. "Even if the planes go nowhere?"

"Don't toss pyschadelic metaphors at me, kid. I'm old enough to remember _Max Headroom_."

"_Whozzat?"_

"**Exactly**." Decker grunted. "And all you have to know about Kneehouse is not to know so much as to make her look bad. She'll bite you back for that."

"And I'm supposed to _respect_ this woman? As a superhero?"

"Or as a paperweight, for all I care. See—It's that spurt of self-righteousness that she finds so grating."

"Ain't self-righteousness kinda sorta okay when you're—yanno—_righteous?"_

"It isn't a perfect black and white world, kid. I keep trying to hammer that into Vic's head-"

"And the reason Vic's in this mess to begin with... ..." Garfield heaved a thumb over his shoulder towards the doors. "... ...is that he refuses to accept that the world is too complicated to correct!"

"And look where it got him-"

"That's not the point!" The elf frowned greenly. "Don't you see? He believed so much in the nasty things going on this City—the nasty things that your _exasperated_ Police Department can't find—that he's gone bravely into the dark night just to stop it single handedly! Some people may call that stupid-"

"-and some people may be **right**-"

"-and some people may be willing to watch the world just sour and implode on itself!" The elf cackled, quieting his voice at the last second as the echoes receded in the subterranean hallways. "Don't you think that Vic has enough experience, enough mettle, enough _frickin' **gumpchin'**_ to have done what he's done for a legitimate reason?"

"Kid, you're too young to afford saying 'gumpchin'."

"Dude, I mean it!" Beast Boy frowned, then gulped. "Detective Dude, s-sir."

"Meh... ..."

The elf squinted. "Seriously... ... ...why _are_ you just a 'detective'? You were Commissioner once. What went wrong? Why do we have a boob-less Roseanne running the show instead of John McClane?"

"... ... ..."

Garfield's eyebrows rounded. "You... ...You pulled a stunt, didn't ya? Just like Cyborg—but instead of getting fried in the circuitry, you got kicked in the career-keister, huh?"

"Vic's done toldja about the 'Panama Express', I imagine."

"Yeah... ..."

"That's cuz I taught him all about it." Decker's fingers flicked an invisible cigarette as memories piled on top of his weathered skull. "I spent the better part of eight months investigating an underground smuggling ring supplying the Dead Men and Neon Hand with firearms and drugs—right under the City's noses. I connected all the dots that needed to be connected, examined all the evidence, questioned all the suspects, bruised up all the punks who were too cowardly to talk—And just when I was ready to strike, to get the jump on the bad guys one cold night at the shipyards..."

"Yes... ...?" Beast Boy blinked eagerly.

"Nothing. I just did that. I got the jump on the bad guys."

"... ... ..." The elf's brow furrowed. "I don't get it."

"Hmph..."

"Did you.. ... ..D-Did you lose the suspects? Did the Panama Express go cold?"

"Nope. I got three dozen suspects wrangled up. Confirmed several crates full of explosives. And photographed several bags of narcotics."

"Well, that's not so bad-"

"-and then the crates full of explosives—yanno-_blew up_."

Beast Boy winced visibly. "Ouchie."

"Dayum straight, ouchie. You could hear the explosion from clear across Jump City. Thank Allah, Buddha, or whatever marsupial you bow to that none of my men died from the blast—though a good few of us were limping for several weeks after—But the fact of the matter was the City got _shook up_ from it. We were supposed to be conducting an investigation, not igniting a warzone. The City hired me as their police Commissioner..."

Beast Boy slyly smirked. "What they got _was John McClane."_

"Heh. Sure, why not."

"I don't get it, though..." Garfield gestured wildly. "You kicked the bad guys' butts! You stopped the circulation of several terrible drugs and weapons in a single swipe!"

"I also lost that evidence—save for the photographs—in the blast."

"So what? Couldn't the City have sided with you? Couldn't they have realized that you saved them all from a great deal of future headaches and sufferign?"

"I'm sure a part of me that was still pretending to be young thought that too..." Decker sighed. "But you gotta understand, kid. I wasn't a spandex sporting super-moron. I had ascended to the top. I was in charge of every unit at my disposal, every organized inch of the police department that had a muscle to move." He squinted at the pointy-eared one. "And I was treating it like I was still some goddayum trenchcoat wearing motha with a gun."

"You never stopped being _Detective Decker_..." Beast Boy remarked.

"I didn't understand that it wasn't what the City wanted, no matter what.. ...hrmph... ...what potential _good_ my short stint at the top may have done. And here I am, back to being the goddam **Detective** Decker."

"I'm surprised you didn't just skip town..." Beast Boy folded his arms and frowned. "I woulda gotten sour if my own force didn't back me up at all in what I was trying to do-"

"It was my fault for not seeing this City for the way it is supposed to work." Decker said, staring steadily at the young man. "Wars are for revolutions—Not for places where innocent people live just a stone's throw away from a random explosion. You wanna know the reason why Vic's team hasn't taken off the ground? Jump City isn't Gotham City—It was _never_ a warzone. It festers in its own decrepit way, but not so much that it isn't _manageable_."

"Pfft...'manageable'..." Beast Boy made a face. "Doesn't a City that festers need to be swept up from underneath?"

"Not with explosions, kid. There's _got_ to be another way." He grunted and stared off towards the far end of the hall. "That's why I'm still in the Department. I may not like Kneehouse's way of doing things-"

"And by 'doing things', you mean _'not doing things'_."

"Whatever—I love this godawful City too much to just walk away. So until I find a way to do things right—I'm gonna do things right, as an officer of the law. I may be really ugly at it, but it's my duty, after all."

"And why are you here?"

"I done told you, kid-"

"No, I mean **here**." Beast Boy pointed at the floor. "Here at Phaser Labs, outside the door to Victor's Intensive Care Unit. You could be off hunting daon Central Gang Members, learning more about what's happened to the Panama Express—And yet you're here."

"It's cuz, as much as I hate to say it, the walking refrigerator means a lot to me. He's his father's son, after all."

"Or maybe... ...Just maybe..." Beast Boy managed a subtle smirk. "... ...you realize that, all along, his way is the right way after all. And that inspires you, doesn't it?"

"... ... ... ..."

Silence hung between the two as they lingered in the cold hallway. And yet, the quiet blank in comprehension was just the affirmation Beast Boy needed.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

By the time the police squad cars came to investigate the reason for the alarm going off at the S.O.T.O Dance Club, an entirely different scene had unfolded in the streets of the Bayside Warehousing District. Seawater receded across the asphalt, alleyways, and building fronts—several fish flopping on the sidewalk besides wreathes of seaweed. Men, pier workers, and random bystanders gathered in droves as they observed the aftermath of the two underwater explosives.

And in the thick of it, under waning Sunlight... ...

"Nnngh!" Robin lifted his sopping body up onto the shattered end of a dock. Panting, dripping, he sturdied himself and reached down into the still-surging Bay with two arms. He dragged a gasping old seaman to safety, depositing his shivering figure onto weathered concrete. A few fellow workers marched over, patting the man's back and muttering at his survival in amazement.

The Boy Wonder struggled to stand up—but after two steps, he merely fell to his knees, wincing. People gawked at him, nervous, as the drenching evidence of his failure to catch Katarou seeped off the young boy's features.

He gritted his teeth, tossed his matted hair over his forehead, and squinted towards the street from which he came.

Not only was Katarou gone, but so was the white utility van. All of the suspects whom he had chased daon were completely vanished, as if they never existed to begin with. The one missing link Robin could have had salvaged, forging the connection between the Underworld and the people responsible for Cyborg's collapse—And the Boy Wonder had failed to tighten the noose. Katarou had seen to that failure, for the second time in a row.

Again, Robin had failed Victor.

His fists clenched, shaking.

Just at that moment, a smelly individual rolled up with a shopping cart. With a Santa-esque beard, looking as if it had been excavated out of a vacuum bag, a familiar looking homeless man took one glance at Robin, squinted, and hacked up his lungs in a futile attempt to laugh. "Hachhkk! Hackk... ...Look at you, sky pilgrim! Hackkk! Nngh—You been twirling the dosey-do with mermaids, have you?"

Robin groaned, rolling his eyes underneath his eyemask. _"Gawd... ... ...Last thing I need..."_

"Nnngh—I can smell it on you! Elizabeth Taylor Gills Almighty! Nngh—So what of it, Sky Pilgrim? You find the golden mean at the end of silk road-?"

"I have no time for this." Robin stood up and fished around for a grappling hook—He was pathetically at a loss to find one, or anything for that matter. His gloved hand kept getting entangled with the seventh pocket from the center. _"Nnngh...Damn it... ...__**Damn it**__..."_

"You were on a search, yes? Nnngh—Friggin' crusade of the skies, which is why you jumped in on me! The police shoved me out of the warehouse cuz of you, didn't they-"

"Do I **look like I've found anything?"** Robin spun on the flinching man, snarling. **"Why don't you make something of your pathetic life before you let this heartless City use you for a hood ornament-?"** He stopped in mid shout. Icily, his head turned to see a gaggle of faces staring confusedly, fearfully at him. The Boy Wonder roared, raising his fists. **"Yeah, what **_**of**_** this soggy mess? Would you **_**like**_** to have had this place blown to kingdom come?"**

The people stumbled back, gasping. Shuddering.

Robin was at a loss as to understand why, until he looked into his threatening fist—groaning to discover that he had finally found the grappling hook. _"Yeah... ...Perfect... ..."_ He shuddered under his breath, fired the thing into the breast of the City, and swung off...

Getting the Hell out of there.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Koriand'r's lips murmured, murmured, murmured in a never-ceasing prayer. She sat calmly, meditatively, as three bodies hovered around the prone figure of Cyborg before her: Dr. Ray with his instruments, Dr. Hunnicutt taking samples, and Raven in a hovering sensory pose.

A shuffling pair of footsteps, and Stargirl knelt down besides Starfire.

"Kory... ...Kory, do you need something to eat?"

"Mmmm... ...No, friend Courtney."

"You've been sitting here f-for hours, and... ...a-and all of us can't survive in one place forever. I'm sure X'hal would afford you a break-"

"I am fine where I am, friend Courtney."

"Kory... ...darling... ..." The blonde gently rested a gloved hand on the Tamaranian's wrist. "... ...Victor's luckier than he can possibly imagine to have you as a friend. Please, do him a favor and have something to eat or-"

Raven's eyes flickered white. She suddenly shouted: "I'm losing him!"

"Crud!" Dr. Ray snarled as a similar alarm flickered forth across one computer monitor, two, three- "Critical system error!"

Courtney and Koriand'r both gasped. Courtney spun to look. Kory's eyes flew open, bright green in twitching comprehension.

"Is there a rupture-?" Hunnicutt barked.

"No—It's powering _down_. But so is everything—The system is simply collapsing!"

"We've got to stabilize the core-"

"Very little time! Raven, see if you can steady his body while we attempt to focus a static charge on his inner matrix-!"

"He's slipping.. ..." Raven seethed, sweating hard as her meditative wrists twitched at the end of her extended soul self. "I feel his consciousness fading into the dark-"

"Not on my watch, dammit!" Dr. Ray snarled. "Hunnicutt-"

"Charging the emitter nao. Setting coordinates to his central matrix-"

"We've got only one shot at this. Two if we're lucky—_Can I get those auxiliary batteries online!"_ He shouted to lab assistants in the background. _"In case there's a feedback charge, I want these computers operative-"_

"Come on, Come on Vic..." Hunnicutt chanted, working with a flurry of wrinkled fingers over a keyboard as a glowing device pointed at Cyborg's rock-still figure. "... ...Your father never gave up... ...I know his stubborn's blood is boiling in you too... ..."

"_Focus the charge. Focus it—There. Keep it concentrated there while I prepare another nanoscopic dosage-"_

"Not too much. The fluid will buckle under his sudden cooling-"

"_What if we concentrate with-"_

"Way ahead of you. But do it fast-"

"_Dammit—Concentrate it harder! We're losing him!"_

Kory and Courtney watched the collapse, wide eyed. Slowly...their hands made contact, and they squeezed each other tightly...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Night had fallen since that soggy afternoon by the pier. Five hours of dying daylight. Five hours of mindless searching. Five hours of running circles over rooftops, dark alleys, and fish markets. Five hours with zero evidence, zero traces of the white utility van, zero traces of the escaping suspects and Katarou's whereabouts for that matter.

Five breathless hours, spent in the skin-stinging kiss of sea air, and Robin found himself limping on a warehouse rooftop—the glittering Jump City Bay dancing beside him, distracting. Always a dance distracting him...

"... ... ..." Robin glanced lethargically over his shoulder.

The four letters, _S.O.T.O_., refused to light up that night. Most likely because the owners of the dance hall were having to clean up from that afternoon's debacle. It produced a sour sensation from inside the Boy Wonder, like a farmhand having just shot his rabid dog.

Robin groaned, he came to a stop along the rooftop's edge and stood before the sea winds over the Bay. His shoulders hung heavily, draped over his staunch figure like a second cape, twice as weighted. For the third time in his life, he had gotten entangled with the mysterious man named Katarou, and in spite of his gathered strengths and improved talents, it had thrown the caped crusader—yet again—completely off track.

Which is just what the cretin had wanted, of course. Robin couldn't find a single trace of where the white van had gone. He stumbled hour after hour over the scene, at odds to locate a single clue. He even lurched back to the building where Cyborg collapsed and tried for two hours straight to re-hack the rogue computer. But the trail had gone cold. A failsafe device in the mainframes had melted away any leftover bits of data. He was banging his head against a doorstop at that point.

Twenty-four hours since the horrendeous escapade that ended at the Johnson Shopping Center, and Victor Stone's team was still as ready to be crucified by the public opinion as it ever was. Only, in a desperate attempt to salvage an answer—Robin almost drove another nail into the wood, when Katarou nearly blew a hole in the docksides of Jump City. Nao, as the night washed over and promised another day of deconstruction and failure, the Boy Wonder stood upon the horizon of his hapless efforts, knowing that only one person on Victor Stone's team could possibly hold a clue—an answer to the source of all this chaos, and that one person was dying.

Cyborg. Cyborg was dying. And what did Robin have to show for it? What did anyone have to show for it? What did anyone have... ... ...?

"... ... ..." Robin's features tightened. He brought a hand down and opened the seventh pocket from the center. In the glittering starlight, he glanced down into his gloved palms. In one hand rested several tattered playing cards—hearts and diamonds. In the other hand rested an iconographic pair of shades, weathered and beaten by time and disaster. Why the Boy Wonder still held onto it for all this time, he could never tell.

Until nao.

"_I thought you were going to help me—help __**us**__. I thought you were going to change the game."_ He murmured to the windy sea air, his haggard reflection gazing up at him in doubled misery. _"But that was my fault for mistaking you for an ace, when all the while you were a wildcard. But that's just the thing." _ His brow furrowed. _ "A wildcard works both ways."_

The shades, of course, were mute. Moisture dotted them as the wind whistled off the shuddering figure—as his shuddering turned into a shaking and his shaking turned into a growling.

"_Real or not, phantom or not—I don't care."_ Robin snarled, reared the shades in his gloved hand, and spun towards the sea. _"If you're going to be a wildcard—Then **be one**, dammit!"_ He snarled into the wake of it. _"**Change** the **game**!"_

The glistening obsidian dot that was the shades flailed and flew into the Ocean like a skipping stone, swallowed up by the night's indifference, its balance of shadows, its murk.

The Boy Wonder seethed... ...seethed... ... ...seethed... ... .. ... ...then sighed, his shoulders sagging once more as he clasped a pair of gloved hands over his forehead, groaned, and sauntered off towards the distant roof of the world, alone.

Behind him, fluttering in the wind, he left a handful of playing cards.

Undealt.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"... ... ..." Doctor Hunnicutt leaned grimly back from the instruments. He took a deep breath and closed his aged eyes, his arms hanging by his side.

At precisely that moment, Raven lowered her hover and stood on the cold tile of the room. She gazed daon at the half-a-shell befor her. Thin eyes, and she raised her hood over her blue head, engufling herself in shadows.

Courtney's wide, blinking eyes danced back and forth from her and Hunnicutt. "Doc... ... ...D-Doc...?.!.?"

"Just another beam.. ..." Dr. Ray dryly grunted, still madly plinking away at the Phaser Labs instruments haloing the body. "... ..if we get his backup circuitry elecrified, he might manage long enough for the insertion of a backup core-"

"No... ...we couldn't save him. We're not going to butcher him." Hunnicutt reflected glossily in an alien girl's green eyes as he turned gravely towards the far corner of the room. "It's over. Victor's dead."


	21. The Third Birth

Once upon a time there was a young man who stumbled upon a door.

And to him, it appeared as if the door was gliding towards him on a river of black ice.

He knew not what to make of this door, but it was a better sight than the emptiness behind him; so he did not dare look away as he came upon the frame of this rectangular entrance.

But an entrance to what, he did not guess, though his still heart entreated with each impossibly long second that languished by.

"Who are you.. ...?"

A perfectly natural question, and yet he gawked to receive an answer.

Shortly, a luminescent worm snaked across the inky blacker-than-blackness that lined the frame, as if a light of unfathomable intensity was coming to life from the otherwise impenetrable side of the door.

When it opened, he could barely stare into the great white fire, but that did not stop him from trying...

From gasping... ...

From living... ... ...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_Welcome back to 'The Gloves are Off'. On today's show, I, Blake Glover, approach each and every one of you with just one inquiry: 'Did I tell you or did I **tell** you?' In less than a week, Victor Stone's team of superheroic 'Teen Tragics' has caused this City more damage than the last ten years of Central District gangfighting combined! Exactly **what** is that figure, you ask? Well, with a shopping district nearly reduced to rubble in West Downtown and many city cleanup crews still trying to beautify the front of St. Faustina chapel—we're looking at a figure in the ballpark of four million dollars! Jump City has never suffered an earthquake in decades, but if we were to experience a tremor in this day and age, we nao have a litmus test by which to measure it thanks to our residential hormonal vigilante goon squad! And if that isn't enough to put steam into your pressure cooker—There're rumors floating around that a certain caped crusader was at the scene of a sudden and improbable tidal wave unnaturally afflicting the warehousing district just east of Georgeton Bridge! So—what-are we practicing for hurricanes as well, here?_

"_You know what astounds me? It's not so much that we've got violent assassination attempts in our otherwise tranquil city—that I had predicted would come with this 'superheroic' presence. It's not so much that there are potholes in our streets made by missiles and not by gophers—that I had predicted long ago on this show as well. It's not even so much that our City is suffering the biggest blow to its transit system because of an L-Track that has been entirely **demolished—**the first occasion of its sort in nearly a century here in Jump City..._

"_No—What astounds me is that our City has needlessly suffered all of these absurd and ungodly things, and yet the greater majority of this Town is so delusionally enamored with the nonexistent merit of these young heroes that we're willing to sacrifice our good sense and intelligence by **allowing** it all to happen! Good God Almighty, people! What will it take for everyone to open their eyes? Must we have a full out war the likes of which had inflicted Metropolis? Must we experience Coast City II?_

"_It is a historical fact—Not an opinion nor a flippant generality—but a **fact**; that with the lifestyle of superheroism is paid in **blood**, not just money and property damages. Where there're are unnaturally powered people doing unnaturally brazen things, there are disastorously unearthly consequences as well as the sociopathic parademons who empower themselves with exacting revenge on said demigods—And who suffers from all of this in the end? Superheroes die all the time—but that hardly counts as suffering; they made their beds._

"_It is the innocent citizens of Jump City who have suffered, are suffering, and will continue to suffer. I am telling you this. You've seen the pictures—Jump City News Broadcasting has **shown** you this. Next time you go for a drive, roll down the window and smell the ash of shattered concrete and napalmed sidewalks and you will **see this** for **yourself**. I am not a madman—am I? Are we still living in the dark and cold cave of our desperate hopes; that these teenaged trainwrecks may actually manage to be something other than what they truly are—A botched idea brought forth into botched reality?_

"_If that makes me a madman to see these horrible things, and to point them out to you—to **scream them** out to you, then lock me up. Bind my arms and hands, but try as you like—you cannot gag me. My voice will be heard from the wilderness of disillusionment that has blown over Jump City like a dusty famine. And should there regretfully come a day when Victor Stone and his team of stumbling C-cards drop an even larger bomb—and not into the Bay this time—and uncountable bodies of the innocent line the street to build his maniacal bridge to 'justice'-then look back upon the tombstone lined path that brought us here, and see if you can suffer to remember the voice of a madman, blowing in from the wilderness, telling you then as he is telling you nao, out of horror and not out of pride:_

"_'I told you so'."_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(****April 25, 2004****)**

The doors to Kensuke Kobayashi's office burst open. From his stately desk overlooking the high windows of Placid Towers, the pepper-haired man looked up—along with two startled assistants—blinking.

Madeline stormed in, all but pole-vaulting the distance between them with her cane. Two sputtering secretaries tried in futility to anchor the blind daughter daon.

"Father.. ...We have to talk. **Nao**."

"Madeline... ... ..." He stood up on wobbling legs and chattered in three dialects toward his assistants before once more facing her. "-This is a... ...uh.. ...very inopportune time..."

"**Nao**, father." She frowned in the direction of his voice. The secretaries all but hung off her shoulders-

Kensuke Kobayashi waved them off. With a nodding skull, he likewise dismissed his two assistants. All four workers fumbled to hurriedly exit the room, closing the clattering double doors behind them.

Once the silence was theirs and theirs alone, Madeline effectively snarled: "I have _had it up to __**here**_ with this slimy, festering, pedantic excuse for a news show. Every second your broadcasting company airs 'Gloves Are Off', you insult the extent to which Victor has gone to protect the interests of Kobayashi Corp—not to mentioned saved both our ungrateful necks from a horrendous assassin!"

He shuffled towards her, arms outstretched, as he murmured forth a flurry of Japanese-

"In **English**, otousan..." She gestured, still frowning. "You have striven for far too long, sculpting me into your Western princess, to fall back nao."

"Hrmmm... ...Very well." He folded his arms and paced before her. "You are correct, my daughter. Victor and his.. ...marvelous team... ... ...have helped us beyond description.. ..."

"You can say that again." Madeline glared through his proximity, the afternoon sunglight glinting off her shades. "And what does he get in return? Lies and slander?"

"This program that... ...you refer to. It is the... ...work of Blake Glover, is it not?"

"I know that he's a big name and all, father. And I know that he rakes in the ratings for JCN Broadcasting—But don't you see hao horribly bad in taste it is to let him continue ranting?"

"The only thing... ...I have known him... ...to be guilty of... ... ...is overexuberant charisma... ..."

"I would think that Victor's team has sacrificed more than enough to disprove the bleak picture he is painting of them."

"But he has every right... ...to paint that picture-"

"I can't believe my ears!" Madeline hissed. "Victor put his team's lives on the line to save us and to chase daon that assassin! He pulled every trick out of the book for what he believed in—And for what?"

"You must understand, Madeline.. ..." Kensuke said, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "I would.. ... ...be casting aside all that... ...I believe in if I was to... ...to...uh...to _**censor**_ this Blake Glover of whom you speak. It would not paint a good picture of my company, my business, and my relationship with Victor Stone."

"But-"

"Just like Victor, I favor honesty and justice above all else. I may not personally like what Glover-san's opinion is.. ... ...but I refuse to dig my fingers meddlesomely.. ... ...into the manner in which he expresses his opinion. JCN Broadcasting has become... ... ...exactly what I dreamed it would be: a self-sufficient and heterogenous...erm..._mosaic_, that examines everyday evidence and processes information into mass media. I cannot and will not let my own opinion... ...hold sway over the broadcasting teams that... ... ...I have so entrusted to pursue Jump City's interests. This will be.. ... ...especially important in the months to come... .. ...as I seek to become this City's future mayor. I cannot lawfully allow this broadcasting company to... ... ...become the monopolized vessel of my own personal ideas."

"Father, I see the direction from which you are coming. And I respect it—Or at least I _want to_." She clutched his arm in a trademark way reminescent of many blind father-to-daughter discussions in the past. "But you must **explain** something to me."

"Anything, my treasure."

"When you recently met up with Victor—When you _absolved_ him of his accidental assault on your entourage..."

"Yes... ... ...?"

"There was more that went on than just a pantomime for public image. I **know** this." Her brow furrowed as she spoke towards him. "You and Victor—you both share a _vision_. If Silas Stone was still alive today, he would very much be a part of that same vision. And that vision is for a future Jump City being devoid of all the horrible crime and poverty that bubbles underneath the pretty exterior. I may not be able to see, father, but I can _smell_ and _taste_ what festers in this City everyday. The reason so many people on the surface appear to be prospering is because there's an even _greater _number of people suffering beneath it all. Victor has a word for this: the Underworld. And he is on a quest to expose this—in a manner so vivid and irrefutable that it'll put blowhards like Glover to endless shame."

Her fingers kneaded Kensuke's arm as her voice quieted into a dripping plee:

"Victor knows the urgency and the legitimacy of this crusade. _You_ know it too, father. And yet—when Victor could benefit from our endless support, out concrete foothold in the media—we abandon him in the exact manner he would _**never**__ abandon __**us**_. And to just _conceive _of the **timing—**it's utterly horrible. He's lying in his laboratory, dying. His heart's stopped, father. He's given his all, and for what? So that companies like us could keep on maintaining the status quo by feeding fuel to the fire of static inequality in Jump City?"

"Victor Stone is the fighter... ..." Kensuke Kobayashi sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair and avoiding the gaze that he knew his daughter couldn't give. "...but myself? I am only a dreamer..."

"You're wrong on two counts, father." Madeline tilted her head aside. "You are **both** dreamers. And—if you had any courage, any true inkling of determination to make Jump City something other than what Georgeton has let fall by the wayside—you _will_ be a **fighter** too."

"You know that I am running for mayor-"

"It takes more than filling an office to be a fighter, father..." She leaned forward, her jaw tightening. "You must be responsible for the _souls_ of people. Not just their tax dollars. You think that as long as the Underworld persists in poisoning the roots of Jump City, that any office conceivable could actually hold sway? What you dream of doing—it will only manage to treat the symptoms of this City's problems. Victor's crusade is aimed at the cause—and he intends to cut the head off from the snake. Can you declare the same with the path your company is taking? I'll go so far as to say this: Victor is dying every minute that we speak over it, and yet he's doing more good than Kobayashi Corp will do in years if it keeps going on this path."

"And just what would you have me do, daughter?" Kensuke groaned. "My only gift is subtlety. My charisma is different from that of Victor's. We may share the same dream, but I can't fight in the same way the heir of Stone Industries can. I stand more to lose-"

"You have more to shield you, father. Don't you _see?"_ She briefly managed a hint of a smile. "You have so much **power**. So much **influence**. What's holding you back from making a difference in this City with the tools at your disposal?"

"What is holding me back.. ...?"

"Yes, father! I wish to know..."

He squeezed her wrist. "Exactly that which... ...I do not wish to become. Exactly the sort of paranoid, power hungry entity that has starved this City for so long... ... ...and has brought Victor into the state that he is nao in."

Madeline leaned back, stricken by that. She pursed her lips, but found herself at a loss to say anything.

"My daughter... ..." Kobayashi exhaled. "To be _truly_ powerful, you need to know when _not _to use it. I have come to this place and position in this City because... ...I was patient about it. If I was too fast and too forward with my expansions, I would have burned out Kobayashi Corp... ...before there was ever an affordable broadcasting organization. I had hoped that I would carry this same pace into mayoral office... .. ...and from there, I could pursue more ardently the passionate 'crusade' of which you speak. But until then-"

"-Victor would have been the one wielding power." Madeline murmured. "He would have been Kobayashi Corp's shining knight."

"As a manner of speaking, yes—In as much as the two of us have a potential partnership... ..."

"But isn't that selfish of you, father?"

"Not so long as we knew our places.. ... ...understood them... ... ..and agreed to them. Like I said, I am merely a dreamer. I could never have Victor's strength. But I do hope that I can always rely on-"

Just then, a creaking noise. Kensuke squinted over his daughter's shoulder and she craned her ear to witness...

Footsteps. Quick, pensive... ... ...panicked.

Madeline raised an eyebrow.

"Yes... ...What's the matter?" Mr. Kobayashi asked.

A nervous and jittery messenger walked up, bowed, and uttered: "Mr. Kobayashi-san. An informant within JCN Broadcasting has just gotten word—But we wished to run it personally by you before broadcasting, sir-"

"Word of what? Speak up!"

"Well... ..." The messenger glanced at his twin reflections in Madeline's gaze before gulping, summoning the courage, and relaying: "...it's Victor Stone, sir... ...he's..."

Madeline and her father heard. The girl gasped, her face pained. Silently, her hand found her father's and clutched it.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Robin's black bangs danced in a hot spring wind. The caped crusader sat in a metal chair, slumped over his workbench, alone inside the shack that used to be his perch—a lone shed on top of a near-abandoned apartment complex towards the East edge of Jump City. His costume was still tattered and frayed, just as he had left it on last night after a fitful afternoon entangled with Katarou. His weapons and gear rested, strewn across a made cot, just as he had dropped them last night. The rusted door to his shack hung loosely on its hinges, swaying back and forth in the warm winds, just as he had left it last night. The Boy Wonder hadn't bothered to bolt the locks in place so long as he was there. Even when half awake, **he** was the hideout's security, the most reliable system the loft ever could have.

"... ... ..."

The Boy Wonder's torso rose and fell with a deep, muddled breath as he remained poured over his workbench. The shed filled with a sealike rustle as a forest of newspaper clippings and leaflets danced overhead in a gust of wind against the superfluous bulletin board. Since the late hour of night when he arrived there, Robin hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, no matter hao much he bothered to try. Perhaps he wasn't allowing himself shuteye, or else Robin realized that sleep would only spell doom for him at this worrisome phase in the team's legacy—for he would inevitably succumb to sleepwalking.

So it was that an array of freshly scribbled notes were fanned about before his beached whale of a head—and the shore consisted of a whirlpool of bottomless clues and baseless hypotheses, all stemming from Katarou's words, laced with D-Cube's suggestions, but severed to bits by the fruitless red herrings of the rogue mainframe's data streams. The robin was rendered flightless, and so—at some point in the fitful night—he surrendered to the pathetic hopelessness of it all, and downright bathed in the lonely detritus of his wayward homework.

At some point in the draining afternoon, a shuffling noise lit up the otherwise secluded doorframe to the loft hideout. A golden glow wafted in, ringing against the shed's metal walls.

A sigh. The caped crusader planted his gloved hands against the edge of the workbench and slowly sat up. Without looking towards the door, he ran a few fingers through his tossed bangs and murmured: "Hello, Stargirl."

"Erm... ..." She clutched the cosmic rod pensively. "H-How'd you know it was me?"

"I'm Robin."

"... ... ...Yeah. I'll buy that."

"As long as somebody does."

She stepped deeper inside, her blonde threads tossed by the warm winds threading their way from the sky beyond. "Quite a nifty semi-secret place you've got here."

"I'm guessing you found me by the tracer in my communicator... ..."

"You guessed right, d-detective." She murmured, squinting at the various fluttering clippings before shuffling along towards his utility shed and sleeping cot. "I know you've been pulling another one of your two-nighters ever since things went down at the Johnson Shopping Center, but I never guessed you had your own hideout."

"I put it together several months ago."

"Before-?"

"Before we all met to battle the Gordanians." He nodded, swiveling about lethargically in his chair to face her. "I was on a quest to trace Dragonflare back to Powers Inc. and beyond."

"Yes. Y-Yes, you've told us... ..." She wandered over to another corner, leaning on the rod. "Guess it makes sense that you'd have a portable Bat-cave. It's a bit Spartan... ...well, almost." She smiled briefly as she saw a CD Player and a stack of jewel cases. She lifted one album, blinked at it, and squinted through her mask at Robin. "_Depeche Mode?"_

"What of it?"

"Erm...N-Nothing." She blushed and quickly put the CD Case back, turning around completely. "You... ...uhm..." Stargirl winced slightly. "You look beat."

"I imagine I do..." He sighed. "I met Katarou again."

The blonde gasped. "G-Good heavens! What did he do to you...?"

"Well, he **didn't **_**kill**_ me. So I have that to reflect on."

"B-But... ...Hao? When?" She then frowned. "And why didn't you _**alert**_ the team?"

"You all had Victor to look out after." Robin said matter-of-factly. "And it was pressed upon me to find the source of what knocked him out to begin with-"

"Don't say that so passively!" Courtney raised her mask so that her naked face could frown at the Boy Wonder. "You know very well that it was you and you alone that decided to go solo on some City-wide Easter Egg hunt! If you were ambushed on your own—Help would be _anything_ but close by! And you knew it!"

Robin's mask didn't come off as it stared back at her, coldly. "I was doing fine—Until Katarou showed up." He swiveled about and gazed through the forest of clippings that fluttered above him, as if it could lend him inspiration. "It was practically _magical_ timing too. I was hot on the trail of people whom I suspected had devices that wirelessly managed the rogue mainframe that infected Cyborg. Their getaway vehicle was within my grasp. I could have arrested them all and seized the evidence—but Katarou sprung a trap. And what's more, he was doing it without any fancy gadgetry this time. Looks like the man likes to play face to the crowd as the vicious monster who brought down the Johnson Shopping Center. But when he was mano y mano with me, there was no pageantry. He's working for someone, and he doesn't want me involved. But he doesn't want me dead either. I wish I could just _make __**sense**_ of it..."

"The only senseless thing is you dealing with all of this craziness by yourself-!"

"I'm a _detective_. It's what I do. And the team had-"

"-better things to do than watching a pot boil! Robin, we're all in this together! Aren't we? Why couldn't you have used our help? Don't you know it was Cyborg's own pride and anger that got him.. ...that got him.. ...Nnnngh..." Courtney sighed and slumped down on the immaculate cot across from his chair's backside. "I don't know why I bother.. ... ..."

Robin took a deep breath. "You.. ...Y-You're right, to some extent, Stargirl.. ..." He murmured, staring towards the metal floor of the lofty shed. "I too can be stubborn. I just know better than to get people involved in things and-"

"It's...nngh... ...it's not _that_, Robin. I'm sorry. Just.. ..." She sighed and ran a miserable hand through her tosseled hair before gazing towards him. "... ...you have everything _together_ in your head. I mean, you're an amazing athlete, and I've seen you handle things ten times stronger than I with my cosmic converter belt can even _shoulder_. But—don't you **see** what you're _gifted_ with? You can think up so many things in spite of their complications and at the drop of a hat! Under unimaginable pressure to boot! Just imagine—If you could employ all of those intellectual benefits with superpowered friends at your disposal?"

"Stargirl.. ..._Courtney_-" He sighed.

But she wasn't done: "With Cyborg, we have the technology and we have the _oomf_ and we have the charisma—But... ..." And she winced as she produced this through her lips: "We don't have the _structure._ We don't have the _direction_. We are all going from dot to dot, connecting evidence to evidence, as if every putrid thing in this City can be found by running a straight line, and not by spreading out in every which way—like the Underworld surely has under our noses. And when there's so much as _one_ hitch, where the JSA or the JLA would pick themselves back up and continue from where they left off, we completely and utterly collapse. And who has to bear the weight of it all? Cyborg does—Just as he was the one to manage it all from the get-go. It's a tragic cyclone that comes full circle onto his shoulders, over and over again. And finally it's broken; in spite of all the gusto he's mustered, it's collapsed in on itself and.. ... ...and this team, for all its power, doesn't have a prayer... ... ..."

"I believe in Cyborg's vision for this team. That's why I've tagged along." Robin said. "Just as he has uses for the rest of you, he has a use for me. As long as we play by that system—_that simple system—_I have faith that we will pull through-"

"But it's _too simple_, Robin..." Courtney murmured gently, but seriously. "And isn't it obvious that the problems of Jump City _aren't_ simple? Face it—Victor is an intelligent and gifted man, but that sort of talent is best at what he's provided this team: computers, technology, communicators, a basement at Phaser Labs, and-in time-an entire Tower. But we all know that isn't good enough." She gulped and finally let it out: "Victor shouldn't be leading this time, Robin. **You** should."

A deep breath. Without looking, Robin murmured into the cluttered miasma of his workbench: "I know..."

Silence...

Another wind. More rustling. The Boy Wonder's voice stealthily slithered into the rippling air:

"But that is not the case. Nor do I want it to be. When we formed this team, there was an agreement. And so long that this is Victor's Town, Victor's Dream, and Victor's Life—I intend to serve his interests for as long as it takes to-" He was swiveling around, but froze instantly at the sight of her.

Courtney's face had melted into a porcelain facade of the young woman who had flown in there a few minutes earlier. She held a gloved hand over her mouth as tears were welling up in her sapphire eyes.

Robin's eyemask narrowed. "Courtney?" His lips pursed. "Courtney... ...wh-what's wrong...?"

She took a deep breath and hugged her arms before her chest. She looked bravely at Robin, tried to smile, but under a trickle of two or three tears, she failed to look at him directly, choking up...

"... ... ... ..." Robin's face fell. A deep breath, and in a cold deep voice: "What did I miss?"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_If you are nao just joining us here at JCN Broadcasting, here is the latest breaking news..._

"_As of 11:02 pm Eastern Time last evening—it has been confirmed—Victor Stone, aka 'Cyborg', and heir to Stone Industries, has passed away due to unexplained injuries sustained shortly following the incident that brought down a shopping district in West Downtown just two nights ago._

"_The exact nature of Victor Stone's terminal condition is hitherto unknown, as we only have a brief official statement from Phaser Labs confirming the young billionaire vigilante's death. According to some inside sources, it is rumored that the superhero known as Cyborg may likely have suffered a cataclysmic internal system failure, the cause of which remains up to speculation._

"_The person to give the official statement regarding Victor Stone was Phaser Labs chief scientist Dr. Vincent Ray, who was apparently present when and where the death occurred, as was also the late Victor Stone's chief medical physician, Dr. Will Hunnicutt. Though both professionals refused to give details of the terminal affliction at this time, they did state that an official press statement will be made in the next few days to come—presumably by either a member of Cyborg's superhero team, or by the one executive authority remaining in Stonetech Industries: Chairperson Nancy Drew._

"_We'll have more on this late-breaking news as the day progresses. Please stay tuned for round-the-clock coverage while Jump City remembers the life, times, and contribution of one of its most notable citizens: Victor Stone."_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Robin's fists hung clenched the entire time. He gazed upon the sheeted plateau atop the medical table inside Phaser Labs. The half-metal body underneath lingered, silent, unmoving... ... ...like a powered down appliance.

"It was a long, arduous fight.. ... ..." Raven unemotionally droned as she lingered beside Robin, gazing at the same somber sight. "As soon as I arrived on the scene, I knew that his soul had slipped beyond the grasp of his reinforced anchor. But traces of 'Victor' remained, trying to cling to himself—even without my help. He was a very courageous man. A bit too bold in areas, but courageous. I tried to help him.. ... ...I tried my best." A deep breath, and the sorceress droningly exhaled: "I am sorry."

"... ... ..." Robin took a deep breath. He half-heartedly tilted his head Raven's way. "Why apologize to me.. ...?"

"I... ..." She blinked. "... ...with what's happened, I only assumed that you-"

"I'm just as flightless as you, Raven.. ... ..." Robin murmured. "We were so close.. ... ...**so** close to finding a connection to the Underworld. Cyborg's dream was a sneeze away from becoming a reality. And then—literally overnight—Katarou drops in to throw us a red herring, and Victor walks right into a trap. And just like that-" A gloved snap. "-it's all consumed before it can blossom. Whatever answer Victor may have come close to finding; he took it with him beyond the mortal coil."

"So that is it, then?" Raven throated. Unemotionally. "The team is finished...?"

"I didn't say that..."

"You inferred it."

"I-" Robin started, but stumbled. A sigh. He rubbed his brow and groaned: "We haven't a leg to stand on, don't you see? Cyborg was the _**foundation**_. The very _**reason**_ for our being here—Much less to have a _purpose_."

"You were closer to him than the rest of us..." Raven stated matter-of-factly. "Professionally, if anything. Surely _you_ were his choice if he was to go-"

"Quite frankly, Raven. He didn't outline a successor." Robin folded his arms, still staring at the sheeted figure. "... ...I suppose he was optimistic enough to believe that the need would never arise."

"Well... ..." Raven croaked: "... ...that was _stupid_."

"It was courageous. Heroic. All the things he wanted to be... ... ...And all the things he was in the end." Robin dropped his arms and paced lethargically across their end of the laboratory. "Cyborg was a good dreamer.. ..."

"But not a good planner."

"I see you too have been chatting with Stargirl."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Not sure exactly.. ... ...So much has happened, and all I can think about is all the mistakes that we've made—Not so much the sacrifices." Robin gazed at her, then back at the shroud. "I know I should be grieving, but I'm so horribly baffled that I can't just _do it_ right."

"Who would expect any less of you, Robin?" The sorceress remarked. "Beast Boy is torn up. Starfire refuses to do anything but sit in one place and gaze at Victor's body. And Stargirl is beyond consolable."

"She's suffered loss in a team before..." Robin murmured matter-of-factly as his eyemask gaze slowly oozed around the lengths of the laboratory. "... ...I imagine this would be opening up old wounds. Beast Boy still has the memory of his parents haunting him. And as for Kory-" His gaze froze on the alien girl, still seated in a chair—fixed in a meditative position. "... ... ... ..."

"I'm doing fine, by the way." Raven droned.

"I'm sorry, Raven... ... ..." Robin wrenched his eyes off the Tamaranian and looked back at the pale one. "I didn't mean to sound cold. I mean-what, with your meditations and all-"

"I knew that something like this would come about." She gently nodded, but shuffled uneasily at the tail end of it. "But... ... ...so soon.. ...?"

"I know... ... ..."

"I see you're handling it well." Raven stated with a hint of admiration. "I assume you've dealt with death before."

"Can't say that's inaccurate."

"What, with Batgirl and all-"

"Batgirl didn't die." Robin muttered.

"Oh..." Raven blinked. "Retirement?"

"Something like that." Robin sighed long and hard, shuffling over closer towards the table. His gaze was locked onto the unmoving form once more. His fists clenched and unclenched before he bravely addressed the girl: "Raven.. ...?"

"Yes, Robin?"

"You could sense his soul, feel him in ways that no instrument could as he passed away.. ..."

"Most definitely... ... ..."

"Did... ..." Robin glanced hesitantly at her. "... .. ...did he suffer?"

Raven inhaled through her nostrils, her arms shuffling under her blue robe. "Mmmmm... ...No."

Robin relaxed slightly-

"Not in the way you're thinking." She added. "Whatever claimed him—_on the inside—_it was chaotic, violent—but most-of-all—swift. I doubt that he had much chance to comprehend just what the energy discharge from the computer mainframe had done to him before he passed-"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Raven..."

She blinked forlornly at him. "Oh?"

"Cyborg once tried describing to me what it felt like to 'sync' with digital cosntructs." Robin slowly paced around the table like he was walking through a cemetery. "Relative time slows. What would be a few seconds to a bystander might come across as a half-dozen months to the one who is sync'd. It's a lot like dreaming—Only both your mind _and_ body are on the line."

"Oh... ... ..." Raven exhaled, her body deflating under the robe. "I... ...I-I wouldn't know what he went through, then.. ..."

"You still know more than the rest of us. And if he didn't _suffer_ while you were administering to him, then we all at least have that to thank you for."

"Robin.. ...please... ... ..." Raven's breath was shaky. "The only reason you would have to thank me would be if I was capable of bringing him back."

"You, Dr. Ray, and Dr. Hunnicutt all simultaneously put your heads and hearts together to bring him back." Robin gestured. "And yet he was too far gone. Many times in this dark world, a situation is irreversible. But you stuck it out for Victor regardless. He would be immeasureably proud of you. Of this, I am certain."

Raven leaned her head to the side. "He was proud of _you_, Robin. And he **trusted** you... ...more than the rest of us."

"I don't know about that, Raven-"

"Don't be coy." She blunted. "You were an inspiration to him. If you weren't here in Jump City when you needed him, when it came time to clean the riff-raff out of his company, when it came time to chase daon the Underworld—I'm quite certain Victor would never have embarked upon his dream to begin with."

"He did a better job of chasing his dream than I ever did.. ..." Robin mumbled. "Let's face it, Raven. If I was spending time here, accompanying Victor in his last hours of life like the rest of you, I would have accomplished no less. My pursuit yesterday turned into a wild goose chase. And in case Stargirl didn't tell you already—my failure was punctuated yet again by Katarou. It goes without saying that none of these calamities would have happened if it weren't for an old haunt from my personal past coming to infect the whole of us."

"You're not responsible for what that psychopath has chosen to do, Robin-"

"Aren't I?" Robin raised an eyebrow above his mask. "On the two consecutive occasions that Katarou's shown up in Jump City, I was _coindicentally _**there** to fall into the place of his nefarious schemes. It's managed to simultaneously throw a wrench into Victor's plans _and_ drive him into a death trap. Of all the things I've promised Cyborg, as his loyal and faithful servant, I've only become the quotation marks to his epithet. If you know of a crueler and bitterer irony than that, Raven—I'm waiting to hear it."

The dark girl took a deep breath. "I don't know what to say, Robin... ..."

"I don't expect you to say anything-"

"-I don't have what it takes to cheer you up or to give you any guidance..." She took her own time to gaze at the veiled shell that Victor's soul had left behind. "When we split up three months ago, and the Gordanians were defeated, I stuck around in this City—instead of moving beyond. I had my own things to do, of course—But of all the places to go do it, I stayed here. Perhaps some it has to do with what Dr. Fate had told me one fateful night... ... ...But honestly?" She stared gently towards Robin. "Every City has problems. But this City's problems had hope—so long as Victor was here. He was going to be the solution to what plagued Jump City. And... ...I-I would like to think... ...his team can still be the solution, given time and effort."

"... ... ... ..." Robin said nothing.

Raven's violet eyes narrowed. "We... ... ..._are_still a team though, right, Robin?"

"I.. ... ..." The Boy Wonder once more gazed on the stone-still form of Koriand'r in the corner. "... ... ...I really don't know... ..."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

_**Bzzzt!**_

A grainy image flickered to life, that of a green elf squatting deep in the claustrophobic hovel of a bunker's bedroom. A half-made bed rested beside him as he sat back, his placid emerald eyes reflecting the red glow of a laptop's webcam.

A deep, shuddering breath:

"So, you've probably heard all of the rumors. And the rumors are true. I ain't going to lie to you." He ran a hand through his fuzzy head and glanced aside. "He's gone. Cyborg's dead... ... ...gone to join Dr. King, Ghandi, Abraham Lincoln, Joan of Arc, and all the other lovely marsupials in the sky. I find it all a little—_I dunno—_foggy. Not sure if that's the right word for all that's happened. And a heck of a _lot_ has happened over the last forty-eight hours. So much so... .. ...th-that I have a hard time believing it's all real. And yet, it is.. ... ...It has to be. Cuz Cyborg ain't talking, ain't walking, ain't smacking me over the head for being a lousy son of a birch tree, ain't pretending not to be remotely amused by my jokes, not... ...not... ..."

He gulped. The green elf rubbed the far side of his arm with his other hand. A slight shiver, then he stiffened to say:

"I dun think y'all understand. This sort of crap happens in this line of work all the time. Only the big guns—the likes of Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern and the like—Only _they_ are lucky enough to have stayed alive for so long. And mostly that's cuz they've got the _power_ to withstand meteor impacts, gods of war, evil sorcerors, thorny body builders from outer space.. ...but... ... ...but..."

He squinted suddenly at the web came as if he was being stabbed.

".. ... ...but a _computer virus?_ Just—click a click—and _clang!_ He's out for the count, permanently? No encores? No paperview events? No reunion tours? The fact of the matter is—I was _there_. I was right _there_ when he got what he got—and I'm sure y'all will hear about that when the official news hits. _Lord knows I've said too much as it is, but what's this show for, huh?_ You see me squatting here every other night or so, and you think I must be invincible. But I sure as heck ain't. I've had things barely one-fourth-the size of Cyborg's muster come to spank this hapless city in the navel, and only cuz the likes of Starfire or Cyborg being in the way have I limped from the smackdaon with my skull in tact. I'm _nothing_ compared to just hao awesomely **badass** Cyborg was. I was the Krillin to his Goku, ya see?"

He shuddered again, running two gloved hands over his face and muffledly murmuring into a pair of spandex'd palms.

"But I was **there**. And I tried to warn him—I knew it was a trap. It was my gut instinct. But... ...if I had done something sooner... ... ...if I had been more _hardcore_... ... ...Maybe he would still be here. Maybe he wouldn't be a slab of metal lying on another slab of metal like so many unfinished dream in this half-assed City... ..."

He lowered his hands, and when he did, his face was a green sheen which his voice bravely tried to contrast, in a deep but crackling voice:

"Th-There's a lot of n-nasty things being said about what Victor has accomplished here, about this team of his, about the m-mistakes he may or may not have made. But know this—and spread the word, _dammit_: Victor busted his titanium ass to see that people would live another day—people who were too washed over in the daily waves of their own complacency to realize just hao _deep in it_ they were, that we all were. And this wasn't about p-paranoia, but it was about vigilance—and the courage to stand up to what's really lousy and point it out like a goddam blood hound. There are a lot of p-powerful people still living in this City, but for every inch of life left to them in this god forsaken place, they'll never in a million years sport the gonads Cyborg had in fighting for a world where people could live safely in—People like me and you, both, unified. Cuz we're all the same. We c-can all die. In a blink. And let none of us forget that crud. Serious, serious crud."

A frown. A sniff. A sterner frown, and his gloved hand reached forward to the side of the flickering webcam.

"I'm done with this show. For all I care, I'm done for good. I'll let my actions speak for me from nao on. That's the way Cyborg lived. I'll see to it that he still does."

And...

_**BLIP.**_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"M'berassa travorka niul sebunn de X'hal. Fen'battu lamarta thriel, hessun d'vor tuuk."

"... ... ..." Robin knelt daon besides the chair in which Koriand'r was seated. He glanced over his shoulder at the shrouded table, then back towards Starfire.

She repeated, dutifully: "M'berassa travorka niul sebunn de X'hal. Fen'battu lamarta thriel, hessun d'vor tuuk."

Robin swallowed and said: "Is that a prayer, Kory?"

She took a deep breath, finally unlocked her glossy green eyes from Victory's body, and then took in the soul of Robin. The girl swallowed and said in a low voice: "It is a statement; an affirmation of my standing with X'hal."

"She's the one whom your people worship, right...?"

She slowly nodded. "It is our firm belief that addressing Her formally, in repetition, will anchor ourselves to Her presence, so that She may give a holy ear to our supplication..."

"Isn't X'hal fully capable of hearing you out without you having to announce where you are?"

"It is hardly that simple-" She began.

"No. No—I'm sorry. You... ... ...Y-You don't have to explain yourself. I'm sorry, Kory.. ..." Robin slumped back with his shoulders to the same wall to which the girl was seated. He sighed, balancing his elbows on his knees and gazing in the same somber direction as her. "I shouldn't even have interrupted. You've just been going at it for so long—well.. ... ...nobody else was brave enough to question it, not even Raven. But I wasn't sure if you were either praying or... ...or-"

"Perhaps I have been given into a mental depravity?" Koriand'r tilted her head aside.

Robin gulped. "Wasn't trying to infer anything, really. It's just that—well—from what I've come to expect from you, Starfire, you seem a little standoffish ever since... ...ever since..."

Kory nodded towards the grim sight with a shudder: "I have every intent to mourn. Much wailing and recitation shall be done. It is difficult to bottle in these emotions churning inside me."

"Please, Starfire..." Robin gazed up at her and planted a hand gently on the armrest... ...brushing against her wrist. "I know this is 'Terra Firma'. But just because the rest of us are typically introspective about all this-"

"What is so _typical_ about what has disastorously transpired before us here, Robin?" Koriand'r remarked firmly. She gazed back daon at him. "I have seen many a holocaust in the galaxy, as well as many a reason to be jubilant. The contrast between this cold universe and X'hal's arms of warmth is a vicious and endless battle. There is nothing typical about it. We are all legends being written, in our separate spheres of glory. And when it so happens that our legends cross paths—it is an amazing thing, worthy of rejoicing. And I do not rejoice in typical things, for to acknowledge them is to deny the significance of life that is planted before us."

"Victor's death is a significant thing... ...One that I doubt we've begun to comprehend." Robin murmured to her. "You can explain it off in any way you want—But it still hurts. And for as strong as you are, Kory. I know that you hurt... ...You hurt a lot, and it is only through your sheer strength-"

"-my strength in X'hal."

"Yes, that too—Only by that have you managed to keep it all in so far. I'm telling you, Kory. You don't have to. Cyborg may be gone, but we're still here. We're still your friends."

A tear rolled daon Starfire's cheek, but it was a stray thing. For she sniffed, and in a firm voice she throated: "Are we all friends, Robin?"

"... ... ..."

She swallowed and stared directly at him. "Of Courtney's emotional dedication, I am completely confident. But what of the rest? Raven only follows this team because it is of some hitherto unexplained advantage to her own necessities. Beast Boy is no coward—but he shirks from pain like a nubile warrior. I would be surprised if this recent event does not drive him back into the circles from which he previously orbited. Even when Victor was alive, he treated this team with a professional distance that severed emotion from reason, so that when failure travailed upon flustering our efforts, he disparately chose to rely on his fiery temper at the behest of those who have grown close to him. And you, Robin-"

"I'm your friend, Starfire."

"... ... ..."

He gulped and smiled gently: "I want to be. I want to do what it takes to keep this team together."

"Do you not see that such is what caused this disaster to begin with?" Koriand'r's moist eyes squinted. "Everyone has been so intent on treating this team for what they have made it—an idea, an organization, a structure. It takes _people_ to build that structure, Robin. And these people have stooped to thinking themselves as parts of a machine. If we valued ourselves as more than that—as something akin to a _family—_Would we not have strived harder to prevent the horrible eventuality that has befallen us?"

"Sometimes family members hurt each other more than anything... ..." Robin said defeatedly. "I've gone through it time and time again in my head. I really, _really _don't know hao we could have avoided what happened. And as a matter of _respect—_I know for a fact that Cyborg cared about us all as more than mere machine parts-"

"You **know**, Robin?"

"I **believe**, Kory." He said firmly. "You came back to this planet because you believed in something, right? Well, Cyborg may have looked like he was all machine—but his heart was completely alive. He believed in something so righteous and wonderful, that he wanted to share it all with us. He would have gladly died to make sure that we lived to see the dream of his through. Hell, for all we know, that's exactly what he did—No matter hao much he could have yelled at us in the past. I think the root of Cyborg's frustrations is that he felt that he couldn't _protect_ us enough. And if that isn't a sign of familial love, you tell me what is."

"... ... ..." Koriand'r took a deep breath. "You must think me a short-sighted brute-"

"Hardly, Starfire-"

"-but I did not come back to this planet because of Cyborg's charisma."

"Oh?"

"I came back because of yours, Robin."

"... ... ..." The Boy Wonder blinked behind his eyemask.

"It was **you** who taught me—Who _showed me_ that people had the desire and courage to be _nice_ in a universe devoid of altruism. If it was not for the example that you had bestowed upon me, I would have chosen another planet to continue fleeing cowardly from the Citadel. But instead, I chose to come back here, to see what I could do to contribute to this planet's noble fantasy.. ... ...a fantasy that this City still needs to have enacted, in some physical fashion or another."

"Don't you think that that's what Cyborg was trying to do too?" Robin asked. "Kory, the only reason that _**I'm**_ still here is because of him. You think I exemplify what it means to be '_**nice'**_? I was a hardass when I came to Jump City. It took humbling myself before Cyborg to find a niche within which I could use my skills and not _hurt_ people. Nao don't tell me that you can't relate to that feeling." He added with a brave smile.

She did not smile back. "Robin, you are most extraordinarily gifted. But I believe that you have been in that niche for far too long. It is my believe that Cyborg kept you there because it assisted his interests more so than the benefits of the City he so intently sought to liberate. I do not mean to banalize him for such a strategy, but if he had humbled himself to you in exactly the same way you had done so to him, perhaps we would have made the necessary adjustments that would have prevented the circumstances that led to his tragic end."

"... ... ..." Robin took a deep breath. "First Courtney, nao you.. ..."

"I am afraid that I do not follow... ..."

"Why is everyone insisting that the roles between Cyborg and myself should have been reversed.. ...?"

"Because it was most logical..." She bore the hint of a smirk beneath her somber surface. "The dream and its dreamer; a most righteous combination. If Cyborg had lived longer, I have no doubt that the two of you would have discovered such a coordination. The rest of us would certainly have been proud to partake... ..."

"It's sad."

"Hao so, Robin?"

"That the dreamer is gone... ..." Robin murmured. "Dreaming was never my job. Every time I tried, I only sleptwalk."

Kory leaned her head to the side. "That is perhaps your most enduring trait."

"Hmm?"

"You never stop moving, even to rest. Victor was gracious enough to give you an anchor, but the tether was tight. If all along, you had been minding the oars..."

"It's too late to speculate, Starfire. Or too soon—Haoever one wishes to see it. With Cyborg gone-"

"Must it be too late, Robin?"

"Starfire... ...?"

She looked deeply at him. "What is to become of this team nao? Who is to teach this fragile world what it means to _be nice_ and _have nice things_?"

"I... ..." Robin took a deep breath, his face stuck in a flightless grimace.

She gently gripped his shoulder. "You stated yourself, Robin, that you _**believed**_ in Cyborg's respect for us. I find it admirable that someone who depends on the cold calculations of a detective's lifestyle can ascertain the power of _**faith**_. And I know for a fact that half of being strong means embracing that which makes you feel uncomfortable, with deep trust in an ultimate deliverance by leaving the said niche of one's own understanding. Over the years, I have been forced to do atrocious things with these superpowers of mine. And yet, it is upon them that I rely—as glorious gifts from X'hal—to accomplish that which I do in the name of righteousness."

Robin gulped. "I... ...I-I had no idea you detested your powers so much."

"As I have been reticent to acknowledge your distaste in leadership, even if it is a natural position for you to take, as it always has been. With Victor sadly gone, it is upon your shoulders that the fate of this team rests. Both you and I know this. It always should have been this way—But, alas, the time to have regrets is a thing of the past, yes?"

"I... ...I..." Robin gazed towards the cold lengths of the sterile laboratory. "I can't see myself ever being a team leader, Starfire. When I'm given the reins to something, and plan things out as strictly as I see fit—people get hurt. It's hard to do nice things to straighten out a mean world."

Kory smiled sweetly, another tear running daon her amber cheek. "Then rely on us, Robin. Rely on your **friends**. Plot and point. We shall do the _nice things_ for you."

"... ... ... ..." Robin gulped something daon and managed a genuinely fragile smile. "That... ...sounds rather nice, Kory. A nice idea indeed..."

"Hmmm mmmm mmmm..." Kory shut her moist eyes and murmured aloud: "Kal'm sajuul t'rytt siul X'hal... ..."

Robin leaned his head to the side. "And what was that... ...?"

"A prayer of thanks... ..." Kory reopened her bright eyes. "For I am nao anchored."

The Boy Wonder gently stroked her wrist and nodded. "Yeah. Y-Yeah, I guess you are, huh?"

She smiled back, sweetly—But looked up at the sound of footsteps.

Robin stood. "Doctor-"

"Please... ...All formalities aside... ..." Hunnicutt raised a hand. He looked twice as gray while his stocky frame hung before them in a deflated white coat. Behind him, Dr. Ray and an assistant shuffled in, somberly collecting a few notes from a faraway workbench. "... ...I've been so busy dealing with the aftermath of.. ...well... ..." He cleared his throat and bore a brave smile across his elderly face. "I wanted to be sure that my other patients were doing reasonably well-"

Starfire suddenly stood up. Two brief seconds of hovering, and she gently embraced the old man in a deep hug. "Your attention is always a blessed thing, Doctor. It was an honor having you administer your talent and good nature on Victor in his last hours..."

Robin folded his arms with a soft smile.

After the hug, Hunnicutt gazed at the girl and patted her shoulders. "W-Well... .." A stuttering voice, and he cleared his voice to sound firmer: "If you aren't an angel in a lovely disguise... ..."

She gazed compassionately at him. "You have endured so much, sir. Victor was surely liken unto a son... ..."

"In more ways than one." The man turned and gazed stonily at the table. "I delivered him into this world, yanno. At the time, it was the most publicized birth in all of Jump City. He was a veritable prince, Victor; long before Kobayashi came here and revolutionized business. Victor _was_ and _is_ the spirit of Jump City, devoid of all its ugly seediness. He may not have believed it for most of his young life, but he carried the genius of Silas—his father—in his blood. And when the accident that claimed Elinore almost took Victor... ... ...well, I was not all that big of a fan of Silas' experiment at first, but I was more than happy to be a part of bringing Victor back to the world of the living. It was like a second birth—really. I don't mean to sound religious, but.. ... ..." He stopped, bringing a wrinkled hand suddenly to his lower lip.

Robin and Koriand'r gazed quietly.

A shuddering sigh, and Hunnicutt—glassy eyed—smiled nontheless in the teenagers' direction. "It is almost like Victor had two lifetimes. I was there at the beginning and end of both of them. And looking back... ...I am proud. Truly, seriously proud of all he did, and all he proposed to do. And I hope—_no—_I pray that he had a contigency plan. That he bequeathed you wonderfully talented friends of his a way to keep the quest alive."

Robin made to speak-

"Most assuredly we will, doctor." Starfire uttered strongly. "We would think nothing less of it."

"Good. Very good. Of all the things Victor told me he was proud of..." He gazed back towards the far end of the laboratory. "... ...he said that the one thing that brought him joy in a colorblind world was... ...was... ..." He stopped in mid-speech. His aged eyes squinting.

Robin glanced across Hunnicutt once, twice. "Doc? What is it... ..?"

"Strange... ... ..." Hunnicutt squinted further. He darted his gray gaze towards the neckbearded scientist in the corner. "Ray. Did you forget to shut off the equipment?"

"Hmmm... ..." The young man sadly, lethargically bazed back. "Oh, Hi, Doc. I'm sorry. What's the matter...?"

"The equipment. It appears to be in a feedback loop. Do you not notice the emanation along the energy monitor?"

"I could have sworn I shut that off..." Ray sighed, handed his assistant a clipboard, and shuffled over weightedly. "After this morning, I suppose I was in another world-...huh." He blinked.

"What is it... ...?" Robin shuffled forward.

"I... ... ...I'm afraid to guess... ..." Ray stammered, his spectacle'd eyes darting back and forth across the monitors. "If I was to speculate-"

"Speculate away."

"It's almost as if it's playing a recording of his readings when he first got here. But that can't be-" He whipped out a keyboard and typed a flurry of input. A picture-within-a-picture popped up, dated. "No... ...No, that's impossible! This is live feed, and yet-"

"Yet what?" Robin was breathless.

Ray blinked from monitor to monitor to instrument panel to monitor to-"... ... ...!" He spun. In one dramatic whurl, he grabbed the sheet covering Cyborg with both hands and flung it off. _**WHOOOSH!**_ "Holy Christ Panties!" He cackled.

Cyborg's metal skin was glowing a dim blue from underneath, growing brighter.

Starfire gasped shrilly. Hunnicutt stumbled as if punched suddenly in the chest; Kory had to brace him as the old man caught his breath, stood back upright, then grunted: "Th-The head monitor! Switch it on!"

"R-Right-!"

"And the nanoscopic injectors-"

"On it! _Howard! Roshan! Snap to it!"_

"I-I do not understand... ...He..." Kory cupped her hands together as she hovered over the suddenly bustling scene. "... ...H-He is alive...?"

"He had complete and total system failure!" Ray seethed as he nonetheless typed away at panel after panel. "His core collapsed. His neural hub burned out and disengaged. His body functions ceased entirely. He _**died**_. In every sense of the adjective!"

"Verb." Robin corrected.

"Whatever!"

"Have either of you witnessed this in Victor before...?" Robin asked, temples sheen with sweat. "Is this some sort of hibernation mode-?"

"Robin—_Vampires_ might hibernate by completely freakin' dying. But not human beings, no matter hao many gizmos they're attached to!" Ray grunted. "I've never seen anything like this in my entire career, and that includes all of the Apokolipton stuff I've had the grace to study. Do you have any idea what I'm talking about? _God machines_ haven't surprised me as much as this... ...this... ... ..._Just what the Hell is this?"_

"Bring up Cyborg's Operating System if you can... ..." Doc Hunnicutt scooted in, his fingers flurrying just like Ray's. "I need to see what's ticking on inside him."

"But it was a _complete shutdown!"_ Ray again stated with utmost flabbergastliness. Nonetheless, he flickered forth a black screen with blinking green text before Hunnicutt. "The memory should have dissipated—a total wipe! What could possibly be left?"

"There's one file here... ...It's encrypted—But it's ancient. Looks like Silas' handiwork... ...But I've never seen anything like it... ..." Hunnicutt murmured to himself. A blink. He glanced aside at Ray and barked: "What's the reading on the neural hub?"

"I... ...Holy beans, I don't believe it... ..." The young scientist was breathless.

Robin leaned in, squinting. "It... ...It looks like his neural hub has an inner core. Is that right?"

"Yes... ...And..." Ray blinked dazedly behind his glasses. "... ...it looks like the outer one melted over, allowing the inner one to come to the surface. It's literally bringing Cyborg's brain—_and the rest of his autonomic systems—_back to life."

"X'hal... ..." Koriand'r choked back a sob, her hands over her smiling lips as a tear rolled daon. "S'laatu siul de X'hal..."

"Did either of you know that Cyborg's neural hub had a backup inner core...?" Robin asked, peering.

Ray slowly shook his head. "D-Doc...?" He glanced over, mouth agape.

The old doctor squinted. "Nope. But I tell you what...someone did. And I didn't know better... ..." He typed madly away, finished with a heavy keystroke—and suddenly the filename of the reboot program glittered in green fruition. He blinked at it... ...but slowly and firmly smiled. "Oh... ...But of course." A wide grin. A warm breath. "'Elinore'."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Once upon a time there was a young man who stumbled upon a door.

And to him, the door entreated, opening with a knife slice of bright light shimmering from the far side.

And he spoke unheard words into the great burning obscurity, too afraid to stride forward and yet too uncertain to move back.

And when it came that he finally saw through the great impenetrable lumonisty, and glanced at the one who awaited for him on the other side of the door, he finally understood just to whom this voice belongs."

"M-Momma.. ... ...?" He shuddered.

"Victor... ...Darling Victor... ..." Elinore Stone stood in the frame, her hand outstretched. "The shield has melted away. It is time for the cocoon to hatch."

"But.. ..." Tears rolled daon his natural face. ".. ...B-But you're dead! I was right there when you-"

"And so are you also dead, my son. Once unto chaos. Secondly unto flame and Antithesis." Yet, she bore a mahogany smile against the silver heat shimmering behind her. "But not for long, Victor. Come. Your Third Birth awaits..."


	22. The Golem of Jump City

A six year old Victor Stone clung to Elinore's arm as the white world below them morphed into a labyrinthal mesh of city streets and rooftops. He gasped to see his feet dangling from several hundred feet, and when the boy looked up to see the source of the light, he only saw another floor—a landscape of circuitry and flickering energy. The west wall was comprised of treetops. The east wall was mud and earth. The south and north wall stretched beyond sight to plunge into endless blue, probably oceans.

"Do not be alarmed." She spoke, gently stroking his chin as she held him in the midst of the cubicle expanse of morphing worldscapes. "Through this necessary flux, you shall once more come into being, my son."

"You.. ... ..." The young boy gulped, shivering. "Y-You came for me, Momma?"

"Through death and oblivion, dredging your incorporeal form from the valleys of limbo, I have lifted you up." She smiled, and as her head craned to the side—her image was broadcasted in an endless rainbow of mirror images stretching for infinity towards the north blue. "It was not too difficult a task, considering you were always anchored to your source. The Third Birth was planned for well in advance. The only trick... ...is that the trick works only once."

"A trick... ...?" Victor shuddered, staring down at his arms. They were longer, ganglier. He was eight years old. The floor beneath him was the satellite image of a schoolyard, multiplied one hundred times and bordered by geometrically perfect rivers. "There are n-no room for tricks in this world. Science has done away with this. This was all an arrangement, no matter hao poetically described... ..."

"You do well to enter your own head, even if you're re-hatching from the inside of it." She remarked with an uppity laugh that echoed against the crashing waves above them. "No matter hao much silicon and titanium is shoved into your skull, you'll never run out of places for which your thoughts can run."

"Momma, you never used to compliment me like this before... ..." Victor exclaimed with a slight growl to the edges of his voice. He spun with her as the walls turned into spinning gears and motors against the flapping of bird wings. "Who are you really?"

"Do I not have your mother's voice? Her scent? Her gentleness of movement and subtle but powerful authority?"

"You have her presence—yes—but you could be an echo of someone else, or some**thing**. And this place..." He gazed up as his figure was reflected infinitely between two seas of parallel skyscraper windows. ".. ... ...this is my mind's way of coming to grips with what's happening to my consciousness."

"Everything that works in this universe can be answered by the mind, you think?"

"Are you saying I don't believe in spirits?"

"Don't you?"

"I want to believe in spirits, Momma. I really do." Victor watched as cogs and gears gave way to a sea of faces laced with middle school smiles. His voice deepened as he flexed his twelve year old muscles. "I believe in ethics, if that counts for something. I believe that some things are eternal, even if most of the world doesn't live in the righteous acknowledgement of that."

"And are you eternal?"

"I am the refuse of an accident... ... ...Just like everyone else..." He thought aloud as his upper body rotated to see a floor full of mountains and ash. "Stars burn, die, explode—And leave us. Stardust. And yet... ... ...We are so much more. We _have_ to be. And yet..." He floated until he was facing her once again. "You died. And nothing came of you. Does stardust truly _end_ with the ones we love?"

"Have I really died? I am here, am I not?"

"You are something.. ... ...But you can't possibly be my Momma... ..." The teenager said, his mahogany skin glistening from teslacoils boiling overhead. "She left this world in the same calamity that should have taken me."

"But Silas saved you-"

"Dad threw me blindly into an experiment of cybernetic chaos that nobody could expect the proper results from." Victor suddenly snarled. "And he tried to do the same with.. ... ..w-with Mom. Her passing should have been quicker. It didn't pay off for her. Why did he work so much harder on me?"

"'And Abraham said, My Son, God will provide himself a lamb for a burnt offering'," Elinore uttered.

Victor grumbled: "Genesis 22:8. Mom believed in God, but she was never tacky enough to quote scripture at the drop of a hat. Nao I know who programmed you." He sighed. "You have the voice of Dad."

"I had his voice. And I had much more." She smiled and floated upside down before him as several snowbanks slithered by. "I had his heart, his spirit, his trust—All of the things that someone as young and as angry as you take for granted, I held most dear. They were all real to me."

"If it wasn't enough that he caused your death and butchered your agonized body before you passed—He has to imitate you in a reconstructive subroutine... ..." Victor snarled. "Even when we shouldn't be alive, my father is toying with us."

"And would I think any less of bringing you back—In spite of all that has erupted between the two of you?" Wrestling mats and gymnasiums stretched for infinity as she stretched down and stroked his shoulder. "I may be but a voice, Victor, but I speak for both of your parents—_not just your father—_as I tell you this: Your life is more precious than all of your regrets, all of your angsts, and all of your adversities combined. You are just _**that**_ precious. And you know what to do with this life of yours, do you not?" She smiled gently, emphatically. "You would want to bless others, to help others, to let them reap the benefits of your continued existence. Is there any doubt of this?"

Victor shuddered, his human eyes moist. He tried to cry, he very badly wanted to—but all that arose was a hideous steam over half his body. "I miss her... ... ...I m-miss her so dayum much... ..." He winced, hissed, as his left skull melted and pools of titanium snaked over and fastened rivet-tight into place. "Every day that I wake up, only to realize that I haven't _truly _slept in half a decade, I still hear her voice. Her singing, her laughing, her humming... ...her screaming." He gritted his teeth as the titanium spread over his chin, daon his neck, and over his shoulders. A red light burned to life from over the socket of his left eye. "If you're gonna tell me you're her ghost or some shiet—I won't believe it for a second. I've lived with the ghost of my Mom for years."

"Then maybe it is time that you gave the ghost up, Victor.. ... ..." She swam across from him as blurring laboratory walls and cables spung cylindrically around the two. "Among your father's ghost. And perhaps your own."

"I-I don't understand... ..."

"The Third Birth, Victor." She smiled. "It is your final threshhold to enter upon this world alone—Truly alone. For what was once you has burnt out and been cast away. You are like the butterfly emerging from a cocoon, ready to take flight. And I couldn't be more proud of you."

"What was once me has burnt out?" Victor blinked. He squinted his one human eye as his fingers were sealed away into permanent metal gloves. His chest flexed under an impenetrable shell of glistening titanium. "The fight with Katarou. The signal. The computer. I hooked up to it... ...and.. ... ..and... ..." He winced. "Oh god. Oh jesus—it fried me. I-I've overloaded! And yet.. ...yet..."

"Let it come to you, Victor... .. ..."

"**Antithesis**." He seethed. "My system couldn't compensate for whatever it was. The foreign energy source infected me, forced my power core to go cold. And my neural hub would be left to fend for itself, unattached to anything." He blinked. His human eye lit up. "But—If the neural hub was multilayered—just like my father's later prototypes—Holy **cow**!" He gazed up at her. "He built me a failsafe! An inner core to my neural hub! When I 'died', it burnt out through the outer layer with a backup surge of energy and brought me back.. ... ..."

"As you were first brought into this world.. ... ..."

"By Elinore."

"And a second time... ..."

"By Silas' engineering..." Cyborg's murmured. "And the third emergence-"

"-is namely Victor's." She said. "Without Elinore. Without Silas. Consider it as the latter's gift unto you—For he will not be there to bring you back a fourth time. You are on your own."

"I am a man." Victor inhaled deeply. "Half of one anyway." He gazed up at her. "I see why he programmed _you_ into the matrix; he must have really believed in it. He supposed that there would have to be an emergency preemptive measure to save my ass when the time came that he wasn't there to give me assistance—Or I wouldn't be willing to accept it from him." He swallowed and muttered in a low voice: "The old man may have been arrogant as all get out, but he still knew his shiet..."

"He has employed a technique that extends beyond time, death, and limbo." She smiled. "Could this simply be Stone ingenuity? Or the scientific manifestation of _spirit_?"

Cyborg smirked wryly as the stalklike skyscrapers of Jump City erected in antlike fast forward around them. "I call it 'dayum smart'." A sigh. "Something I wish that I was."

"Oh?"

"Antithesis." Cyborg spat out. "Whoever or whatever it was—I fell for it."

"There is no other apt way to be consumed _than_ to fall." Elinore said. "Limbo has a gravity of its own. ... ..."

"I... ..." Cyborg blinked. "I-I don't understand..."

Elinore spun suddenly into a cold, cold wind. The entire west mall melted away with a blanket of inky darkness that shivered Cyborg to the core. Out from the shadows came the wormy glow-line of a broad figure with a horned cranium and crimson slitted eyes.

"He's consumed more than just you, Victor. And he's done it with the ravenous hunger of all the world's vices combined into one gluttonous ball of corruption. From the deepest well of the amoral world, he has emerged—dragged forth from a bizarre and unearthly science, to perform menial labor for a demigod."

"And what would he want with me... ...?" Cyborg stammered, unable to look into the horrific image directly.

"You were simply in the way. The two of you were never meant to meet." Elinore smiled in peripheral of the hideous thing. "Somehao, for some banal purpose, you were brought into the path of it."

"The Underworld... ... ..." Cyborg grumbled. "They were onto me. They somehao got ahold of this dayum thing—this Antithesis. And when I got close enough to sniff their cowardly butts out, they unleashed Katarou on my team—and Antithesis on me."

"You were exposed to every possible measure to destroy your flesh, body, and circuitry in one fatal swoop." Elinore nodded. "But they did not count on the last contingency of the Third Birth. They did not count on me."

"Then they must think I'm done for... ... ..." Cyborg finally stared up into the face of the demonic thing, and the horned figure melted away from his gaze to reveal the glistening Bay of Jump City from four angles. "They can't possibly believe that I'm coming back." He blinked. He floated about and stared at her. "And I am coming back, Momma... ...?"

She chuckled and folded her arms. "So.. ... ...you would call me 'Momma' again?"

He swallowed. "Only b-because I have hope.. ..." His face was long, his human eye round and soft. "For the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel _hope _again."

She floated down towards him and kissed his half-metal forehead. She murmured into his ear: "You do not only _feel_ hope, my son. You **are** hope. My hope. And your father's. You are our gift to Jump City—to the world. Nao live your life—_your third life—_and bring gifts to others."

The titanium teenager took a deep breath, smiling, radiant. "And I intend to. For as long as I am still ticking."

"Just remember to wind the clock every day." She smiled, waved, and drifted into the crystalline cubicle of melted glass, slowing down, closing in on all sides of the chaotically reflected young man. "Stay faithful. And God will provide the sacrifiii-iii-iii-iii-111-11010-1001010-010110-101010010110"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(****April 28, 2004****)**

Cyborg's human eye fluttered open.

A metal ceiling. Bright lights. The towering silhouettes of half a dozen computer mainframes and medical stations.

Cyborg breathed.

Cyborg lived.

A stirring... ...

And the half-android's gaze pivoted aside. He was momentarily startled by a loud, whurring hum from deep within his skull... ... ...but soon realized it was the all too familiar sensation of tiny machines operating endlessly from inside of him.

Soon, the upside-daon image of Hunnicutt smiled into view. "Ah... ... ...So you are awake. Welcome back, Victor, to the world of the living."

Cyborg inhaled through his nostrils, gulped hard, and hoarsely managed: "Wh-What's up, Doc?"

"**You're** up. Quite miraculously." Hunnicutt uttered. He walked around until he was right-side up once more and examined the various pressure points along the flesh side of the metahuman's body. "Exactly hao it is that you are breathing—much less cognitive of what I am saying—is something far beyond my reach in medicine. And believe you me—that is quite a reach. I used to be a major track-and-fielder back in my day. From the looks of it, your neural hub lost its outer layer in the burnout-"

"-and a backup core surfaced in its place... ..." Cyborg winced, flexing his hands and fighting the force of gravity, quadrupled, to bend a forearm up to the elbow once or twice. "My father had secretly built inside of me a failsafe for if I was ever to suffer a systems failure so catastrophic that my energy core couldn't maintain stability."

"Hao remarkable that you know all this.. ..." Hunnicutt murmured. "Did he also build you an internal diagnostics program to act as a briefing?"

"No, I-I was just-" Victor started to say, but his tongue lingered on the fringes of a murmuring childlike noise. He stared off into the shadows of the ceiling, the breath and smile of his mother fading like leaves off the sidewalk. His human eye deflated, along with the strength in his voice. "Yeah... ... ...j-just a diagnostics program... ..." He bit his lip.

Hunnicutt narrowed his gaze. "Victor.. ... ...Are you sure you're okay... ...?"

Cyborg took a deep breath. He stared strongly at his would-be-godfather and firmly smiled. "Doc... ... ...I just came back from the dead. Unless I was the lead drummer of a goth band, then that makes me _more_ than okay."

"Well, I'm not letting you out of this room just yet. There's no telling what your circuitry has been through—or if your motor nerves are capable of so much as-"

"Right." Cyborg shot up and sat on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling over the edge of the table. "But while all of that sounds interesting..." He popped several cables and cords out of his titanium body with a series of sparks as Hunnicutt lurched at him, gasping. "...I really can't afford to sit on my metal ass. I've got the news of a decade. A computer virus from Hell is in the hands of our enemy, and if could do this sort of a number on me—Then there's no telling hao many other people and things are in trouble until I do something about it."

"Victor—I have tolerated years upon years of your pigheaded stubborness-" Hunnicutt momentarily sneered. "But if in this one miraculous opportunity to make good of your precarious state of being you instead bungle with teenage impulsiveness, I'll never forgive myself for letting you go through with it-"

"Then take a gander for yourself, Doc..." Cyborg popped a cable loose from the back of his skull and—grinning-handed it to the aging gentleman. "And see if _**this**_ qualifies as 'precarious'."

Almost instinctively, the doctor ran the cable into an instrument panel besides the bed. He typed away at a keyboard until a particular graph popped up onto the monitor—and it forced the fellow to gasp. "Good heavens... ..."

"Hao's my power level?" Victor smiled, beaming. "And if you quote Vegeta, I'm gonna have to choke a female dog."

"Your readings are three-hundred and thirty percent above average... ... ..." Hunnicutt breathlessly stammered. "And they're _holding_! And it's with little to no variance! Th-This can't be right... ..."

"I'm willing to bet that it is right... ... ..And it will continue to _**be**_ right." He yanked at the cable and the monitor switched to static as Cyborg reeled the cord back into his skull. "Ya see, Doc, the old Neural Hub I was using was a _crutch_. I'm willing to bet—with the outer core melted away—I'll be capable of maintaining a power level _**five hundred**_ percent above what my old one was. I just can't explain it-"

"Well you'll _**have**_ to explain it! This is all scientifically boggling-"

"No, just characteristically absurd." Cyborg's chuckle was more powerful than his grunt as he explained. "My father has always... ..._**always**_ found ways to hold me back. I used to think it was because he wanted to force me along his own career choice, or some vicarious path of righteousness. But nao—Nao I'm beginning to think he saw the tempestuous seas of Jump City's future, and wasn't all that sure I could dive in without an inner tube. Well.. ...I just about met my maker—_his and my 'Maker'_-and nao I don't need the counterbalance for standing on my own, or running at full sprint for that matter."

"And you all of this from a hunch?" Hunnicutt squinted. "Just hao much did the diagnostics briefing tell you before you woke up?"

"Lemme ask you something quick, Doc, since you were obviously monitoring me the whole time." Victor pointed at the local computer. "What was the program's name."

"Do you really wanna know?"

"I think I already know." Victor took a deep breath. "It was named after my Mom, wasn't it?"

The man slowly, gravely nodded.

The cybernetic teen unplugged a few more cables from him and sat up straight on the bed's edge. "Yeah, well, I was told that this whole thing is the 'Third Birth'. It makes sense, poetically—at least. But I was never big on my English. I get my adjectives and nouns mixed up. I put adverbs in the wrong places. I use 'infer' instead of 'imply'-"

"Do you actually have a _point_, Victor?"

"My point is—My old man was always a poetic kind of guy. Very religious, very eloquent. There's a trifold message to what I've been through just nao—and only **I** am capable of truly understanding it. For one, he's secretly ashamed of what he's done to me. For another, he's sad for what happened to my mom. For a third—he wants what's best for me and my future. This is true—in spite of all his effed up crap—he's always wanted what was best for me. And so, he's given me a chance to make good on all three of those gold-pressed-latinum bullet points. And who am I to let the Old Man daon when he's finally done something, howbeit beyond the grave, to level with me?"

"You've gotten messages from him before, Victor." Hunnicutt reminded him. "What makes this one so much more special than the others?"

"Because this time it _**wasn't exactly him**_."

Hunnicutt said nothing.

"... ... ... ..." Victor suddenly squinted. "Hao long have I been out?"

"Four days."

"Fuuuuuuu..." Victor realed. "That's way too long!"

"Hao long do you _**want**_ to be dead the next time?" Hunnicutt cackled. "You're lucky that you came to life faster than it takes most people to get through jury duty!"

"The Underworld has a head start! But they'll also lose their cool if they think I'm dead. Still, there's no telling what they'll do next with Antithesis-"

"With _**what**_?" Hunnicutt made a face.

"It's a long story.. ..." Victor grumbled. "And—besides-it's one that's best saved for my teammates—_**Teammates!**_" He almost jumped up. "I need to round everyone up on the double! Where is everyone-?"

"Wondering whether or not they should be buying you 'get well' cards or lilies." Hunnicutt managed a smile. "But, overall, they're doing fine. Why don't you ask one of them yourself?" The Doctor pointed across the laboratory.

"... ... ...?" Victor gazed over and saw—for the first time since he got up—a tall amber figure that had been there the entire time.

Koriand'r was smiling, sniffling. Trying to hold her shudders back. At the sight of the living half-android, she finally... ... ...finally stood up from her corner, walking over with the stride of an angel.

Victor blinked, his lips pursed in awe. Hunnicutt briefly planted a hand on his shoulder, his chin hovering by the young man's ear. "_She never left your side. Not even for a breath of fresh air. I think I'll leave you alone for a moment... ..."_ And—nodding gentlemanly towards the Tamaranian—he shuffled off and into the hallway of Phaser Labs beyond.

Cyborg looked up, swallowed, and murmured in a humbly soft voice: "H-Hey there, Kory.. ..."

"Dearest Victor... ..." She stood before him, her hands folded together in front of her skirt. "So you are recovered, yes?"

"I am... ... ..." He gazed at her in disbelief, until a warmth cascaded over his frigid features and brought a helpless grin to the surface. "I am recovered. And very thankful to be here—But not as thankful as I am to see you here as well."

"That is a sensation incomparable to my joy at seeing you alive and breathing." She insisted with an emphatic stare, her green eyes glistening with a neverending warmth. "When news reached me of your calamitous suffering, I felt as if I had been ripped in two. So much of what we have fought for and believed in stands upon the bulwark of your faithful undertakings and yours alone, Victor."

"Starfire, I-I.. ..." He winced, ran a hand over the human half of his head and jitteringly glanced aside. He looked like he was swallowing needles daon his throat before the titanium teen managed to utter: "I am so... ...so incredibly sorry for the horrible things that I said to you. I was so angry over Katarou, and I was wrong to take them out on you."

She smiled, her head leaning to the side. "I forgive you, dearest Victor. And I am most sorry for the extraordinary lengths to which I exercised my unearthly strengths on that fateful night. Time and time again have you reinforced the importance of my holding back, and yet I let the passions and anger of that night's combat hold sway over me. I promise—by the honor of X'hal—that I shall not allow that vexing temper overtake me again."

"It's all good in the hood, Star..." Cyborg looked like he was in pain as he gazed agonizingly towards her. "There was no way out of that trap that Katarou sprung. For all I know, you did the right thing by not taking any of his crap. But... ...I... ...I-I just can't believe you're still here..."

"You cannot?" She looked confused.

"I had insulted you s-so terribly. I practically told you to leave this planet. I-I still can't b-believe I said that crap. After all that, the f-fact that you haven't split for Venus or whatcrap.. ..."

"Mmm... ..." She briefly hummed. She took two steps forward, knelt daon, and gently grasped his hand. As Cyborg looked on, Koriand'r raised his metal palm to the warmth of her cheek—gazing directly at him. "Victor..." Her green eyes implored, like emerald pools. "You have a dream, a most delightful dream. In my long years of running from every hellish entity that hunts the breadths of the galaxy, I have had very little chance to rest—for life on the run from the Citadel has turned into one grand nightmare. Being able to fight for you, and in what you believe in—has been the one good dream of my existence. And I adore that dream, Victor, and I adore you for dreaming it. It takes one gram of will against the infinitude of a malevolent universe to prove that the _nightmare_ itself is the thing that is _truly_ fleeting, and I thank you for reminding me of that."

"Starfire... ... ..." Cyborg stammered, grasping for straws. "Th-This team-"

"I believe in it, Cyborg. And I believe in **you**." She smiled, tears trickling warmly down to kiss his fingers as she stared at him. "You have my hope. And behold... ...You are alive again, are you not?" She smiled—briefly sniffling—but grinning strongly once more.

Victor gazed at her as if from the bottom of an urn. He stroked the tears dry against her cheek and murmured: "What in all of Creation has made me so lucky to have you as a friend...?"

She sniffled and gripped his wrist with two strong hands between them. "By X'hal's grace, Creation wills even stranger things."

"Not on my shift, it doesn't."

"Heeheehee..." She grinned and was about to say something else when a mighty _**schwissh**_ from the side announced a flurry of footsteps.

Cyborg glanced over, his red eye reflecting a quartet of incoming faces. "What's this, Raven's flock?"

"Victor!" Courtney was the first to the touchdown. She all but speared the half-android with a giggling hug. "Oh thank god thank god thank god thank god!"

"Careful tackling him... ..." Raven droned from where she hovered in the back. She lowered her hood to reveal a cool head of fluttering blue hair. "He _**did**_ just pull a 'Dracula'."

"Heh, you wish!" Beast Boy stuck a tongue out and snaked his green way in around Courtney. "Hey, big man! Give me some skin! And when I mean 'skin', I mean polymerized molybdenum. And when I say 'polymerized molybdenum', I mean a metaphorical stand-in for aforementioned skin. And when I say 'aformentioned skin'-"

"Alright already!" Cyborg fitfully high-fived the elfin metamorph. "Anything to shut you up! Dayum!" _**Thap!**_

Koriand'r giggled and Raven folded her arms, smirking.

Courtney leaned back with a breath and stared at Vic. She rubbed her moist eyes and smiled bravely. "You were _**dead**_, Vic. You were _**gone—**_And... ...And n-nao you're back. And it's all just so... so..."

"Awwww... ...Chin up, braces." Cyborg squeezed her shoulder from where he sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm doing just fine. Not even Steve Jobs with a blowtorch could take me daon."

"Gawd... ..." Courtney hugged herself and hobbled back, shivering. "It's a miracle. An absolute miracle that you're back..."

"Yeah... ..What about that, huh?" Beast Boy hung off the blonde's shoulder, steadying her as he grinned Cyborg's way. "So, are you like _magic_ nao?"

Cyborg glanced at his own arms, at the various instruments lingering around him, at the eager faces of his teammates, Starfire's bright green eyes.

"Pretty sure that was a one time deal." He smirked.

"It's hardly something to make light about," Raven said, squinting.

"What is when it comes to you?" Beast Boy balked.

"I'm serious." She said. "I _felt_ your soul _**leave**_ the body. You were dead."

"Yeah, well, so was Shawn Michaels' career once." Victor Stone stood up on wobbly legs as Beast Boy and Courtney fought to steady him. "But looks like he's not the only one to be born again." He gently ushered them back. "I know y'all may be wanting to break out the cake and ice cream, but I've got some information that the Underworld thinks I'd be a little _too dead_ to do anything about. We need to have a briefing about what to plan next."

"_Yes. About that."_

All of the superheroes swiveled around. Cyborg squinted past the lot of them to see the Boy Wonder in the back, leaning casually against the frame of the laboratory door. His masked face looked grave.

"We might have a roadblock."

Cyborg leaned his head to the side. "What..._kind_ of a roadblock."

"They've pulled the **plug**, Victor."

The other teenagers hung their heads. Cyborg saw it.

"**Who** did?"

Robin took a deep breath. He slurred: "It happened barely twenty-four hours ago. Detective Cid came to me personally to deliver the message."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 27, 2004... ... ..yesterday)**

"I ain't making this up, Bird Boy... ..." Cid shrugged her trenchcoat'd shoulders from the edge of the windblown rooftop of the Jump City Police Department. "And, quite frankly, if I was the one making the decision—I'd have it go another way-"

"Enough with the hypothetical drivel." Robin blurted and glared across the gravel at her. "Just what exactly did they vote for?"

"A temporary suspension, as enforced by the City and its law enforcement, of any vigilante activities—previously sanctioned or not." Cid ran a hand through her bushy black hair, struggling against the night's wind. "That covers masked strangers jumping off of fire escapes to knab purse snatchers. It also prevents people going out into the street with smoke grenades to stop gang fights. And—well-since there's been very little of those two examples and a Hell of a lot more situations involving teenaged metahumans fighting souped up psychopaths until a chunk of Downtown is reduced to rubble..." She pointed at the caped crusader. "...The City Council's decision distinctly-"

"-affects **us**." Robin grunted. "Detective Cid, don't you think that it is inopportunely coincidental that immediately following the appearance of a new and dangerous life-threatening cretin to this City—during the prime time when it is best to investigate the whereabouts of Katarou and any of his accomplices—two detrimental things would happen that would put such a potentially rewarding investigation into disarray? For one: my team leader is dead. And for another: the City nao votes to suspend any activities by any vigilantes, pyriod?"

"Hey... ..Don't shoot the messenger!" She gestured wildly. "Like I said, I'm not all that hot about it-"

"Please, save it." Robin sighed. "You made your perspective quite clear back at the Vaughan Concert Hall. You don't expect anyone to take Victor's team seriously—So hao could you possibly come to a contradiction with the City Council's ruling?"

"Look—I wanna see this investigation you're running lead to a pot'o'gold. But face it, Robin. That ain't happening! Katarou has proven time and time again to be too big for your spandex'd britches. And everytime you so much as come close to him or anyone attached, buildings crumble and half-robots _**croak**_."

"Watch it. Cyborg was a human being-"

"What I mean is—You're noble and all that jazz, Robin, but you're just too dayum dangerous." Cid gave an exasperated look. "And though someone like me may _appreciate_ where you're coming from, I'm not the one having to handle the cleanup of Downtown—or its budget, for that matter. Trust me—The City would _like_ to vouch for you. But if they can't _afford_ you—Well—what else is there to say?"

"In Gotham and Metropolis-"

"-the superheroes _**deliver**_. I'm sorry, Robin. But stopping a few fires and preventing one assassination doesn't stack up much to Jump City becoming a warzone that it never was before Victor's treehouse-of-friends assembled. I know you wanna do your former team leader proud, but you gotta think harder about what he believed in."

"Victor Stone believed in justice—In bringing to light all of the hidden, underworldly niches of crime that festers in this place-"

"He also believed in the ultimate well-being and security of Jump City. And as long as you're putting more scorch marks than smiley faces on the populace, maybe you should start asking yourself just who stands to be the real villains here?"

"... ... ... ..."

Cid sighed. "I'm sorry, kid. Maybe things will switch around. Until then—Try and not to get your birdarangs in a knot. There are many pitiful ways to masturbate this sort of situation-"

"_Exacerbate_."

"I'm sorry?"

"Never mind. Continue what you're saying."

"-and until the City Council says otherwise, you and the rest of the super-teens are off the radar."

"Define 'off the radar'."

"Lemme put it this way..." Cid bashfully scratched the back of her neck. "If... ...erm... ...If I c-catch you out on the street—daylight or moonlight—and you're wearing anything with a cape, a utility belt, or rainbow spandex... .. ...I'm to report directly to Kneehouse."

"And then what?"

"Checkmate."

"Oh for god's sake—_Work with me, Detective!"_ Robin snarled.

"FINE—Kneehouse will be forced to arrest you!"

The Boy Wonder gawked. "You can't be serious... ... ..."

"_Eastwood_ serious, kid. And that goes for any other member of the force—Or paramedics or firefighters as well. They report to Kneehouse, and Kneehouse is authorized by the City Council to stop you from doing that which you should have been stopped from doing from the get-go."

"We're to be treated like criminals in the City we've fought for so long to protect?"

"Hey. Life sucks. It's not always guaranteed to blow bubbles."

"So—If, for example, Stargirl—who is an elite member of the Justice Society of America-"

"**Former** member-"

"But a nationally respected crime fighter all the same—If Stargirl was to save the life of a person who fell off the edge of a buildingside-"

"Hey—You don't like me getting into hypothetic drivel, then don't do it yourself, kid."

"I think this is important, _Detective_." Robin glared through his eyemask. "The wording of your message seems to imply that we're not allowed to do any form of life-saving or crime fighting activity in Jump City whatsoever. Unless the Council—in all of their haste—is also willing to enforce a very strict and unnecessarily convoluted set of specific rules for which they can go about maintaining such a suspension, they may think about generalizing it into the one rule they're irresponsibly reticent to make."

"And that is-?"

"A complete ban. They want to kick us out of Jump City altogether. But they can't, can they?" Robin folded his arms as his caped flapped in the wind. "And that's because as much as Kneehouse is opposed to much, as much as the media is tearing us apart, and as much as the tax dollar is pointing an angry finger at us—The City Council can't shake the fact that we're needed, that public opinion actually _favors_ us, and that the nature of what the late Victor Stone's team has been uncovering is far too frightful coming out into the open than anyone with a complacent mindset is willing to allow."

"A nifty theory..." Detective Cid boredly nodded. "I'll toss it Kneehouse's way."

"Meanwhile—**What**? My team just sits in the basement of Phaser Labs while we twiddle our thumbs?"

"Or you kids could... ...yanno... ...do your homework or something."

"I can't believe this—_What does Georgeton think?"_

"Robin—The vote was _unanimous_." Cid remarked. "And Mayor Georgeton was head of the commission that oversaw the Council's decision."

"... ... ... ..." Robin stared, dazed. "I can't believe that... ..."

"Believe it, kid. Georgeton was your team's last bargaining chip. Nao—for once—stop being so stubborn. Stop fighting Kneehouse—it was the mistake that Victor always made, and it's too bad too. Cuz nao that he's gone, there's very little for his team to pick itself up with. But if you play ball like he did—and to some extent like your mentor does in Gotham—then maybe things will go better this time. The suspension could very well end, and you'll get your second chance to help out this City—but doing it by the _rules_."

"Funny thing about 'the rules'. There weren't any." Robin squinted through his mask as Cid. "Until nao."

"Yeah, well—There's a precedent for everything. When Decker went too far with that trigger finger of his, he had to step daon from being Commissioner and Kneehouse has been doing the job in the ritualistic fashion it needed to be accomplished ever since."

"What's Decker's take on all this?"

"He doesn't have one."

"Everyone's entitled to one."

"Not Decker." Cid bit her lip. "He's... ...uh... ...He's kinda sorta suspended too."

Robin glared. "**What**?"

"When the Council made its decision about Victor's Team and handed the ball to Kneehouse—She knew full well of Decker's past history with Vic, as well as his penchant for blowing shiet up. So long as the City gets all of this stuff disentangled, Kneehouse has Decker working on stuff from the inside."

"You mean he's stuck in his office like a **prisoner." **Robin nearly spat. "I cannot **believe** that they're making that man suffer on behalf of our team."

"What you call suffering, I call a preview to a much needed retirement. Some people on the force are too old and too sorry to be allowed to kill themselves. You see, Robin—There's compassion somewhere to be had in making people play by the rules." She adjusted her coat, nodded to him, and marched off towards the stairwell. "Even if you gotta dig through a bit of bureacratic muck to find it—Compassion is there."

"Well, I think it's **pathetic**."

"It's called growing up. You should try it some time."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 29, 2004)**

"And then, just this morning, we were sent an official memo—delivered by two squad cars with fully armed police officers..." Robin said from across the table of the Phaser Labs briefing room. He had his arms folded as he leaned back against a wall in the shadows. "It felt just like house arrest. In no way is this a joke. Beast Boy took off as a bird and covered the next few blocks with his sight. There are at least four patrols surrounding Phaser Labs at about two streets' distance at all times. The City Council is very serious about our not doing the thing that we all came here to do."

"And for what purpose... ... ...?" Courtney mumbled and gazed aside at the others at the table. "Do they really think we're so tangle-footed that we'll make everything explode around us if we so much as go out for doughnuts?"

"It's worth it for doughnuts." Garfield mumbled. "Sucks, though."

"The news will not let up about it... ..." Raven added. A sigh. "Not that I _watch _the news. But—when I extend my soul self beyond the lengths of this building, all I feel is mass confusion and uncertainty. The decision made to keep us from fighting crime may have been popular in the eyes of the Council—but I don't think they honestly speak for the _City_ itself. People are _wondering_ why we are gone. There's been no official announcement."

"That's because they want _us_ to come out and say it." Robin remarked, frowning. "They want to force a humble apology out of our mouths, in that we confess to the City and the the media that we're sorry for what's happened at the gas station, at Fifth Street, and at the Johnson Shopping Center. They'll want us to admit that we _deserve_ to have been suppressed in the manner in which was imposed on us by Mayor Georgeton's Commission."

"As if that wouldn't cripple our public image even more.. ..." Courtney grumbled. "Am I the only one thinking that we're being stomped into the mud _on purpose?"_

"I don't think it's any closet secret that the City Council wants us out of here." Garfield leaned his chin boredly against his arm and muttered. "I'm beginning to think that Georgeton was just pissing around when he pretended to be sanctioning us."

"Or maybe something _**bad**_ happened to him," Raven added. "Something to make him change his mind."

"Care to be specific?" Garfield squinted at her. "You use the word 'bad' like Pakistan tests nukes."

"Think about it." Raven gazed at everyone. "Georgeton is a decent man—but I doubt that the death of Cyborg alone was enough to change his heart and make him switch positioning on the team's sanction. What if the blow we suffered the other night was more than in just two places? Katarou brings the fight to Downtown, Victor gets attacked by a computer virus-

"-and Georgeton is coerced by outside forces?" Koriand'r murmured. "It would make sense, would it not? Surely all of these actions could have been committed by a singular entity."

"The Underworld... ...?" Garfield blinked. "Would they be that obvious? Surely they knew that Robin was alive to kick their butt in Cyborg's wake-"

"But this suspension throws a wrench into that." Robin stroked his chin in thought. "So even if we were to follow up on their 'three-fold attack'-We would end up hurting ourselves in the process."

"Hypothetically." Courtney emphasized.

"Right."

"It is all too elaborate and inopportune to be coincidental," Koriand'r stated. "If Victor had not died—and yet the suspension had gone into effect—the City Council would only have fear for the City as a means by which to defend their decision."

"But since a member of our team suffered-" Raven pointed across the table. "-they'd have reason to suggest that their decision was made in our best interests as well. Any attempt to argue against that would make us look like we _need them_ to think for us."

"So that would leave us doubly crushed." Garfield groaned.

"Am I the only one who's as happy as she is creeped out that we're all thinking the same thoughts?" Courtney mumbled.

Silence.

Koriand'r gazed eagerly across the table. "Victor? You have been silent for a great long while. Have you, as our leader, any wisdom to cast upon this development?"

"... ... ... ..." Victor gazed through the table, rubbing his metal table. Finally, he opened his mouth and slurred: "I... ... ...I am dead."

All of the superheroes gazed back. Finally, one of them blinked—And the blinking one was Garfield.

"Say what?"

"I am dead... ..." Victor looked up. "I am not alive. I am dead."

"Oh god..." Garfield shuddered. "...he's been replaced with a doppelganger built by Tim Burton. Someone call Johnny Depp and a Maytag repairman."

"Shhh..." Robin raised a gloved hand and squinted the half-android's way. "Victor, you feeling alright?"

The half-android's lips curved in a gleaming smile. "Never better, Robbie. Hao are you?"

"A little concerned. Do you need to be plugged in again?"

"Never mind that. Lemme ask you something..." Victor folded his metal hands and leaned across the table. "The story you just re-told us... ... ...of your meeting with Detective Cid—Was it completely and utterly accurate?"

"I always strive to be so in my recollections."

"So, am I correct to remind you and the rest of us that never—not even once—did you openly admit to Cid that I was recovering?"

"... ... ..."

Victor emphasized: "Did you ever, ever tell her that I was anything else but _**dead**_?"

"No, Victor. I never gave her that assurance."

"And why not?"

"Because... ... ..." Robin tilted his head up, slowly gracing Victor across the table with a knowing glance as he uttered: "Because I don't know who to trust anymore. And I figured that with the less people who knew about your being alive, then you might have-"

"-an **edge**." Victor grinned. "Hao can you suspend a metal super-mofo who's not an alive mofo?"

"Uhhh... ...Earth to Vic?" Garfield sweatdropped. "The City Council's ruling is so vague, you can steer an oil tanker through it and they could pull it over for speeding long after it's cleared the harbor."

"I'm not thinking about the City Council." Cyborg said. "At least I hope not."

"Then of whom are you referring, Victor?" Koriand'r remarked, her eyes fluttering.

"The cheap ass scaredy cat filth shoveling mothas that _did a number on me—_Of course. Katarou, the Underworld, the Dead Men, the Neon Hand, all the king's horses and all the king's men... ..." He cast an apologetic look across the Briefing room. "All the nasty cats who led Robin on a wild goose chase and nearly drowned him alongside the Warehousing District." He gazed at Raven, Courtney, the alien, the elf. "The people who set us up to be on guard for an assassination that never happened, only to lead us directly into the crux of an explosion that **did** happen—putting tons of innocent lives in danger while pointing the camera-recorded finger of blame at us. _**THOSE**_ people." He pounded his fist onto the table and barked: "They injected me with several layers of digital crap that toasters have nightmares about in the cold sweating gleam of frost-laden night—And they _**think**_ that I'm _**dead**_. Well, they _**should**_ think so. Because I _**should**_ be dead. But—by the grace of God, X'hal, and beef jerkey—I'm _**not**_."

"But they don't know that." Courtney smiled.

"And they think that the City Council knows it too..." Raven added.

Garfield hopped out of his seat: "But they don't know that what we know is what they don't know that that they don't know what we know and yet they don't know... ..." He went cross-eyed. "_Wait_."

"Assuming the fact that you are alive and well gives us an edge beyond the fact that you are alive and well... ..." Koriand'r spoke while staring earnestly at Victor. "... ... ...to what extent could you utilize this advantage?"

Victor smirked and sat up out of his chair: "**Antithesis**."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(April 30, 2004)**

"Say what?" Garfield scratched his fuzzy head.

Victor turned from where he stood before a wide array of glowing monitors in his basement laboratory. The other superheroes stood in a fan before him as he gestured towards a string of data.

"Any of y'all see something you recognize?"

"I do..." Robin nodded. He stepped forward and pointed at the leftmost monitor. "This is the datastream I detected in the wireless signal I received when I hacked into the mainframe that floored you. It was coming from a device being transferred across town in a white utility van. When I moved in to intercept—Katarou was there waiting for me."

"I think that totally confirms his involvement with the computer virus..." Raven droned from the side.

"Not as much as what I experienced confirmed." Victor smirked. "When I went under, my consciousness was exposed to a digital simulation—The bad guy's egotistical way of spitting some arrogant monologue into my face before kicking my electric soul into the grave." He swiveled about, waved a hand, and—like magic—enlarged the lower right monitor so that it encompassed the greater array of his computer screens. "What I saw was this darling high school picture you see right here." The glowing outline of a demonic figure stood broadly with a horned head and blood-red eyes.

"Yikes-!" Garfield shivered.

"Good heavens..." Courtney cupped her braced mouth.

"X'hal!"

"Wicked." Raven droned, then glanced Victor's way. "So there's a gremlin inside the gremlin machine?"

"More like a spirit invading the golem—And by golem, I mean me." Victor highlighted the shadowy edges of the malevolent silhouette. "I know it's easy for me to subjectively imprint upon this damnable thing—what with me _**dying**_ and coming back to frickin' life and all. But—and I am positively certain of this—I believe this thang is alive. It wasn't just a virus that flew into me. It was the living _chunk_ of something that didn't appreciate stuff that's _living_."

"Antithesis... ..." Robin nodded.

"Corret-o-mundo."

"You do realize that if it was an actual spirit... ..." Raven squinted. "I should have been at least _competently_ capable of detecting it."

"I don't think it lives in any respect to which you're used to, Raven."

"And hao would you know what I'm _**used**_ to?"

"Demons? Spirits? Souls of the living and the dead?"

"... ... ...Well, I suppose that about covers it."

"Hao much have you brushed up on your homework over '_limbo'_?"

"... ... ..." Raven stared at him steadily. Her tone was dead serious: "Is that where you think you were?"

"Where else would I be?" Victor shrugged. "I'm half-dead all the time as it is. Perhaps there's a soul attached to me just like there is one attached to each and every one of you. But—whatever this thing is, it attacked me on the _digital_scale. It killed me on a level that living and dead machines operate. If you can't wrap your head around that, I rightly don't blame you. It ain't like anything I've ever encountered before—and I think Antithesis expected that when it attacked."

"A soul is a soul." Raven insisted. "When you 'died', Victor. I sensed it."

"But did you sense where I _went_ to?"

"... ... ...I-I'm not quite equipped to be the expert on that."

"You don't have to be, Raven. I'm just sayin'... ..." He turned to all the others. "This thing I battled wasn't human, wasn't demon, wasn't exactly _pure machine_ either. Sure, it used the medium of electronics to infect me—But I think that's just one of its many chameleon colors." He gazed back at Raven. "What brought me back to life was a failsafe that my father had built. It was equipped to send me a message in the shape of my mother—as it was imbued with a piece of her memories to help relate to me and soothe me on the trip back to the conscious plane. But while I was daon there—and I mean _way deep below the River Styxx 'daon there'_-I'm guessing I had a long time for my subconscious self to bounce around the ruins of limbo. And I'm quite convinced—for there's no other way for my soul or essence or whatever you might call it to know this—that limbo is Antithesis' stomping grounds."

"And our enemies—This Underworld... ..." Courtney murmured. "They have Antithesis?"

"Or Antithesis has them." Victor gazed across the room. "The encounter was horrible. Excruciatingly painful. He burned my essence to a crisp in a cyclone of flame and torture—All the while laughing at me, claiming that Jump City was his garden—and that he was the annihilator and the birther to this City all the same. And he wanted me **out** of the picture; cheering that the 'game is over'."

Beast Boy shuddered. "Yeesh. Sounds like a substitute teacher from Hell."

"A spinning cyclone of fire?" Robin raised an eyebrow above his mask.

"I know it sounds dramatic. But when I think of it nao—His constant motif about 'spinning'-I begin to think I've brushed paths with him before. Maybe he's brought limbo up to the surface, and my machine-anchored subconscious has been picking up visions of circles within circles from it."

"Okay... ..." Robin sighed boredly. "Nao you're just **reaching**."

"I like it." Raven blurted.

"Of course you do. It's downright _**Jacob's Ladder!"**_ Beast Boy stuck his tongue out.

"Also a good movie; borrowed it from a library a few weeks ago"

"Unngh..."

"But what's the silver lining to this freak-fest, y'all ask?" Victor grinned wide in spite of himself and enlarged several monitors' worth of data streams. "When I fell into 'death', 'limbo', 'spiritual New Jersey' or what-have-you—I was dredged back up by the Elinore file, and I scooped all of these bits of code along with me." He pointed at the various patterns. "Unwittingly, in his attempt to curb-stomp me into oblivion, Antithesis showed me his insides. Half of these data strings are enough to wipe out a good chunk of the North American electric grid if they were fed into just one or two security matrixes. The crud is _uncanny_. It's a virtual computer-zombie-code. The makings of an ultimate digital weapon."

"Who could make such a thing... ...?" Courtney blinked. "Dr. Sivana? The Calculator?"

"'Insert generic Bill Gates joke here and run for the lockeroom'." Beast Boy smirked to himself, arms folded. He nudged the figure next to him. "Whaddya think, Star?" A beat. He squinted through the silence aside him. "... ...Kory?"

The Tamaranian in question was slowly shuffling towards the array of monitors and their flickering data frequencies. "... ... ...I feel foolish for uttering this aloud, but I do believe I have seen this pattern before."

"Really?" Robin leaned his head to the side. "Where?"

"It was a long time ago.. ..." She narrowed her eyes and briefly gazed at the others for emphasis. "And it was not on this planet."

"I _knew_ it." Victor snapped a metal finger. "What can ya tell us, Kory?"

"Erm... ..." She fiddled her fingers together pensively. "It was only a brief exposure—From my days with the Okaarans, when I received my powers... ... ...But it is moment in my life that I have much difficulty forgetting, in all of its horrid details..."

Raven shifted about under her robe from the emotional vibes wafting off of Starfire. "We.. ...erm.. ... ...we figured you were reticent to tell us much about your past in that regard, Kory..."

"And I remain so. But... ..." She gazed about with hard green eyes. "This is important."

"Tell us what you know, Star..." Courtney gently pressed the girl's shoulder.

"It is a very old code. The Okaarans acquired knowledge of it simply because they were fortunate enough to find wreckage of a large intergalactic juggernaut that was diseased with the virus. Its machine circuitry had melted from the inside out. Every soldier and fighting person inside the derelict vessel had been pulverized into indistinguishable biomass—allegedly from the artificial gravity being reprogrammed to multiply its intensity by twenty-fold."

Beast Boy almost messed. "There go my days of eating pancakes..."

"So it's been used in space, by non-Terrans... ...?" Victor asked in desperate curiosity. "M-More than one occasion?"

"I seriously do not think it has been wielded often. You see, Victor... ..." She turned and looked forlonrly at him. "The derelict juggernaut was _Apokolipton_. And yet its technological might was no match for this invasionary construct."

"_Dear Azar..."_

"Uhhh..." Beast Boy shuddered. "That's pretty bad stuff, right?"

"If something could take down Darkseid's forces that easily..." Courtney nodded. "... ...it's no wonder it could turn earth's technology to creamed spinach."

"That brings up another possibility." Robin pointed out. "We have loads of Apokolipton junk on Earth. Darkseid tried invading us _twice—_and the last time he nearly turned Metropolis to dust in the process. I'd say the odds are great that, among the bric-a-brac left in the chaos—this _Antithesis_ would have been left behind."

"I hadn't even thought of that.. ..." Victor murmured aloud.

"Wait—What of it?" Beast Boy suddenly barked. "No earth tech can _house_ this thing, right?"

"Right. Just broadcast it—Like the rogue mainframes did to Cyborg when he connected." Robin uttered. He looked at the rest. "Whatever was broadcasting _Antithesis_ was being carried off in the white van I couldn't catch up to. At least that's my theory."

"And so what are the odds that the doohickey inside the van wasn't of Earth?" Garfield gestured. "I mean—It's gotta be alien tech to deliver an alien virus and not turn to goop on itself, don'tcha think?"

Cyborg turned to Starfire. "Kory? What do you think?"

She swallowed and nodded. "The Okaarans were able to store a piece of this code—Antithesis or not. They had no name for it. Still, I would say it is reasonably acceptable to hypothesized that many extraterrestrial technologies would be capable of containing and distributing such a computer virus."

"So—What?" Raven made a face. "We're assuming that a overgeneralized bunch of shadow groups clamored over the ruins of the last Apokolipton Invasion, bottled a computer virus they could barely understand, came to Jump City, formed the Underworld, then set Victor up for the ultimate Y2K bug? I'm a mystic, not a scientist—but that seems to be ludely humping the leg of _Occam's razor_, don't you think?"

"All right then, let's simplify things?" Victor spun about. "Where's the next closest place to dredge up otherworldly garage sale crap to use for evil purposes?"

Silence.

Victor furrowed his brow. "I'm talking about our back yard, people."

Koriand'r gasped. "The Bay. The Gordanian wreckage!"

"But... ..." Courtney fidgeted. "I thought most of that stuff was sitting in Jump City Prison to the north?"

"Not all of it..." Raven muttered. "We've already intercepted some of it before. Remember the gang members in front of the gas station?"

"So—What?" Beast Boy cackled. "We're on the look out for Gordanian technology again? Just like when we were tripping ourselves on Fifth Street and bumped into a framed Kobayashi? Arrrgghh!" He kicked at the floor and crossed his arms in a pouting slump. "We're back to square one again!"

"Not necessarily... ..." Victor pointed at the monitors. "I have all of these signals to trace back Antithesis—_and_ the ones harboring it. If I could create a receiver and bounce them back-"

"Bounce what back? Dude- you ain't even supposed to be _**alive**_-" Beast Boy barked, gesturing like mad. "-and, according to the City, we're not even supposed to be out on the streets! What the Heck are we expected to do?"

Silence filled the room. Everyone looked at one another. A few grins, a few waggling eyebrows.

Until finally Beast Boy blinked. "Oh... ... ...Sweet."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(**April 31, 2004**)

"_We interrupt this broadcast for a late breaking story. JCN News takes you live nao to the front entrance of Phaser Labs where—as we speak—former JSA member and current partner to the late Victor Stone, Stargirl, is about to make a much anticipated public announcement."_

Nancy Drew woke up from where she sat—haggard and tosseled in a bedrobe—atop her lush apartment's sofa. Several files, envelopes, and business folders lay in a heap on either side of the exhausted woman. She squinted to see the flickering television left on in front of her. Above it, a digital clark snickered forth crimson lines: _'10:07pm'_.

"_Standing in the field at this unprecedented event is Kelly Hampton. Kelly, anyway you can fill us in before this conference takes place?"_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Several bruised and grumbling drinkers huddled at the counter of Muffler Pub, squinting over their drinks and cigarette butts to see the ancient tv set churning above.

Wiping a glass, a limping Miles Kennedy did a double take and glanced curiously at the live feed.

"_Hello, Merilyn. It's absolute bedlam daon here. I can hardly hear myself give this report over the crowds that have gathered in the streets since the announcement was made concerning this conference."_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

"_As you know, Victor Stone was pronounced dead nearly a week ago, and since then the City has seen little to no activity on behalf of his 'superhero team'. Rumors have been running left and right as to the nature of their absence. Perhaps the team has resigned, perhaps the Mayor has been putting pressure on them—"_

Ding Dong Daddy rested his cane against the edge of a fireplace and grasped his ring'd knuckles together. His dark brow furrowed as he narrowly watched the broadcast flickering from the far side of his luxurious bedroom.

Flanking the doorway, a few young thugs nervously chatted with one another as the field reporter spoke forth:

"_Whatever the case, the citizens of Jump City have been entirely in the dark. That is, we hope, until nao—as you can look behind me and see the cluster of security guards moving from the front doors to the Phaser Labs building—yes-yes-I do believe our cameraman is catching her..."_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

In the hazy interior of the Jump City Police department, several investigators, detectives, and file clerks huddled around a shoddy wooden work desk. They folded their arms and murmured two one another in their button-up shirts and gun belts as they watched the broadcast unfold.

"_...that is Stargirl, revealed several years ago to the public as Courtney Whitmore, a young teenager from America's Heartland. You might all remember her from a famous interview conducted with Lois Lane last summer. Since she joined and fought supervillains alongside the Justice Society of America, she's been renown world wide for her heroism and courage."_

Towards the far end of the lofty floor, on the fringes of the haze and noise, a bleary-eyed detective sat at his table, rubbing his stubbled chin. Decker heard the commotion filtering in from the outside of his office prison—sneered-and kicked the wooden door shut. His name placard naturally fell halfway and swiveled from its one nail support.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

A miserable Madeline Kobayashi suddenly sat up on the edge of her electronics-littered workbench as the radio broadcast of the report filtered on. Her seeing-eye-dog beside her raised its snout and panted as the speakers crackled forth.

"_And as she walks up to the microphones that have been set up before the entrance of Phaser Labs, she's looking anything but cheerful at this present time. Let's see what she has to say as she takes the stand—Okay?-Here we go-"_

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

(**Half-an-hour ago**)

"You know what to say... .. ..." Cyborg stood in the lone hallway with Courtney, his hands resting gently on her shoulders. "There's no point in fearing that you might stumble over your words or anything. Cuz it's all just a show. And—really—who are we trying to impress? We know who we're dealing with—And we know what they're already convinced of, already."

"I know... ..I know..." Courtney sighed and gazed at the floor, shifting her left 'foot' from side to side. "It just... ...It just isn't something I very much enjoy doing..."

"We can change the plan." Victor said gently. "We can make Robin give the speech. Just about everyone on this planet knows who he is—or at least who the first Robin was—and-"

"No...**No**. It's me." She gulped, looked up, and smiled bravely. "It h-has to be me. Not just Stargirl, but Courtney Whitmore. They'll believe me more than the pupil of the world's most shadowy detective." A slight giggle. "Besides... ... ...I th-think you'll get a lot more use out of where Robin _could be_ tonight-"

"Look... ...Look at me..." Cyborg planted his hand under her chin. "You're as much use to me tonight as to anyone. And I have always and shall always trust in your integrity and your honesty. So if you're not comfortable-"

"Victor-"

"-we can find another way-"

"There **is** no other way. Let's... ...L-Let's just do this, okay?" She smiled. "I'm the only one besides you and Garfield that has a _face_ that they'll trust. And... ...Well.. ... ...if doing what I'm about to do will ensure that we finally root out these no good bad guys, then I'm willing to make a sacrifice."

"... ... ..." Cyborg took a deep breath. "And just when I think I can't be any more lucky—You do the second nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

Courtney squinted. "And what's the first nicest?"

"When you slapped my dumbass face a week ago, girl!"

"Hmmmm-Hmmm-Hmmmm" She chuckled and hugged him dearly. A gulp. "I-I'm so glad you're alive, Victor... ..."

He stared over her shoulder. "The pleasure's mine, Ms. Whitmore... ..."

"_Vic? H-Hey, Victor!"_ Dr. Ray marched in, frazzled, from an elevator. "You gotta move, man." He pointed behind his shoulder with a thumb. "Security will be daon here any sec—And if they see you-"

"Right." Victor stood back, patting Courtney's shoulder one last time. "Remember. Radio silence—No matter what." He marched off.

"Hao will I know if it's mission accomplished?" She asked, jolting after him.

He shouted back: "When you wake up to the sound of Blake Glover shitting bricks over the airwaves!"

Courtney smiled bracedly.

"Ms. Whitmore?"

She spun around.

Dr. Ray nodded breathily. "It's time."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

**(Now...)**

A flurry of epileptic flashbulbs glittered off her braced teeth as Courtney Whitmore, in civillian gear, stood before a rosebush of microphones and spoke to the gathered audience and cameramen in a glowing urban halo around her.

"It is my solemn duty, to regretfully confirm—That the initial rumors of Victor Stone's death are not only true—But they have been witnessed first hands by myself, and by the rest of the late Cyborg's fellow teammates the night of April the Twenty-Fourth, 2004."

Murmurs, hushed mumblings, a few gasps filled the crowd. The cameras clicked and clicked and clicked forth. The combined limelight shimmered off of Courtney's sad face as she fought back legit tears to continue:

"The death was brought on by a hitherto unidentified computer infection that intiated a cascade of systems failure throughout the cybernetic pieces that kept Victor Stone's autonomic functions in tact. His death was not—_I repeat—_not brought forth by the battle this team had with the would-be high tech assassin from the Vaughan Concert Hall. Much rather, Victor Stone was infected when—shortly thereafter—he attempted to conduct an unrelated criminal investigation. His heart stopped less than twenty-four hours later. Since then, his teammates—consisting of myself, Robin, Beast Boy, the one called Raven, and Starfire of Tamaran—have spent the time picking up the pieces of the puzzle to his sudden affliction, as well as... ...as d-deeply mourning his passing."

She gulped something daon, sniffled... ...fought over a hill of hesistance, and spoke forth into the sea of camera flashes:

"It has come to our attention that many people in Jump City wish to know the future of this team's involvement in crime-fighting. The t-truth is... ...The truth is that the very foundation of this team has rested, since day one, on Victor Stone's shoulders. And nao that he is gone—our strength is still here in numbers, but our spirit and our drive has been regrettably absent. In order to compensate for our loss—and ascertain a way to make up for it—we have banded together under Robin's leadership, and Robin—a veteran from Gotham City—has made the executive decision that we should hold back, and correspond with a directive formulated by the Jump City Council—and hereby **suspend** any and all vigilante activities, until the forthcoming time that Mayor Georgeton may arrange a plan with Commissioner Kneehouse of the Jump City Police Department, whereby we may be sanctioned to continue active duty in the streets of this metropolis-"

The sound of her voice was cut off, as an uproar of curiosity and surprise drowned out her declaration. Several press agents begged for comments while others squabbled and argued amongst themselves. Courtney bit her lip and shirked from the surmounting volume of the conference while several security guards and police officers gestured and shouted for order-

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

From overhead, Koriand'r clung to the shadowed face of an apartment complex half a block away. She squinted daon at the noisy press conference, tip-toed through the darkness, and hovered over to where a green elf perched beside a squatting Robin.

"I believe she has conveyed the gravity of her message. Within minutes, all of Jump City will be privy to the conference as well as its replays."

"Man... ...are we doing what I think we're doing?" Beast Boy murmured stealthily from where he hid beside an A/C unit. "Cuz this kinda feels like the mother of all dick moves."

"Only that this dick move is gonna stop a whole lot more dick moves in the making." Robin replied in a shadowed voice. "The latter being ones that _kill_ and _exploit_ people."

"You really think this is gonna get us to track daon Antithesis?"

"Only one way to find out." Robin whipped a brand new device from his utility belt. He waved it high in the air, starlight glinting off the craftmanship of a young Victor Stone. The device whirred and hummed from deep within—before a series of LED lights lit up in a specific fashion. The Boy Wonder smirked. "Got the signal."

"Victor's doohickey worked?" Beast Boy squeaked.

"Somebody using Antithesis' coded signal is listening in on the press conference. The air is _swarming_ with the frequency when just a few seconds ago, it wasn't."

"If it's such schmancy alien tech, you'd think it'd detect more than just Courtney's pretty face and words." Beast Boy gulped. "You'd think the people channeling that thing would detect _**us**_."

"That's why we're gonna hit 'em hard before they can do anything about it." Robin put the device daon and glanced up at Starfire. "Kory. Give them the signal."

"And the coordinates-?" She remarked.

"Five kilometers. Due east."

"Affirmative." She hunched her back up against a stairwell entrance, raised her palm, and formed a dim starbolt. Then—in a coordinated pattern—she opened and closed her palm repeatedly...

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

... ... ...four blocks away, the lit signal was flickering within open sight of any chance observer.

And there happened to be two observers.

"There it is.. ..." Raven squinted from where she levitated darkly atop a water tower. "Azar alive—I suck at this." She gazed daon. "Hao about you?"

"Calm daon, girl. I've got it." Victor—his blue armor dulled to a solid black—sat stealthily in the shadows of the water tower. He clicked the side of his red eye, committed the flashing starbolt signal to memory, and turned to look up at Raven. Smirking. "Robin found a trace of Antithesis. Whoever's hoarding the thing is using its technology to monitor the press conference like we suspected."

"Any bearing-?"

"Five kilometers east of here. We'd better get moving—Robin won't let the other two rest for a second."

"Nnnngh... ..." Raven floated daon and summoned a dark portal. "Just what are we jumping into here, Victor... ...?"

"What the Hell else, girl?" Victor grinned wide and readied his fist into a sonic cannon. _Clakka-Clakka-Clak!_ "We're about to kick some ass!"


End file.
